Still No Sign Of Spring - The Walking Dead (Part II)
by littlexblue
Summary: Daryl has been struck down with a horrible fever due to the infection in his wound. The group is wondering if he'll pull through or if he'll die and turn. Meanwhile, tension is rising between Rick and Jasmine, and the threat of the remaining survivors of Hatchback Grove is still looming...
1. Part II

i don't want to be a **hero**.

haven't you noticed?

its the hero who falls hardest

who must dust themselves off and endure.

i am no **achilles**.

i won't fight a war for honor

i can't fight it for love

sacrifice is not in my blood

i'd have walked away long before

the first spear was thrown.

i could never be **hercules** ,

so strong and persistent,

but what move could be made

on a chessboard poisoned by power?

checkmate was certain

and in the end even his strength couldn't save him.

i will not be **atlas** ,

with arms so bruised they are blue

don't you dare balance the earth on my shoulders

for they are too frail.

i could not hold the heavens any more

than i could hold my resolve to be strong.

i told you, the heroes fall hardest

and i am already too **broken** to be **brave**.


	2. Chapter 21 - Rest

**Early to Mid March**

Snow fell gently down from the sky, giving everything an angelic sort of touch. Jasmine paused at the end of the hall, peering out at the outside world. Since Daryl's little fevered-frenzy, she had refused to leave the cabin. Not only was it preferable that she stayed inside because of the baby, but Jasmine had decided to take it upon herself to keep his wound clean so that the infection and the fever would go away. So far, his body was exhausted from trying to fight off the toxins in his system. The wound was no longer inflamed, looking quite different from how it had a month or so ago. Jasmine still couldn't quite get the image out of her head; the skin had been peeling and blistered, the gash oozing and weeping.

Carol had insisted that she stay back, for it was rather disturbing to see, but she had worked up the nerve and assisted her and Maggie in cleaning and sewing up his injury with care. The archer had remained unconscious for weeks, crying out in the night occasionally for the mercy of his father. Jasmine had never really known why he would make such racket, awakening within a frenzy of babbling and grovelling, but she figured it was something rather scarring, given the night terrors it gave him. He would whimper and yelp, rambling on about how " _I don't know where your beer has gone_ ", or " _I had only been trying to help momma_ ". Even, " _I had to walk my friend home, she was sick_ ". It intrigued the young femme, but she knew it was personal. Nonetheless, it nagged at the back of her mind.

Reflecting on the situation, she felt her stomach suddenly harden. Would he ever really come-to? The juniper bushes had all been gone, and there was no sign of spring. Medication was scarce, but since the journey to the remnants of Hatchback Grove, they had thankfully found something suitable for his condition. It seemed to be helping, more or less...

Jasmine looked upon her reflection. Her ivory skin was smooth and flawless, her hair now having grown a few inches longer, just about to her shoulders. She now could pin it back with a clip Maggie had lent her. She had taken a liking to this length; her hair was finally beginning to return to normal. The laundry basket she held against her hip was beginning to press into her stomach, and thus she shifted. She had just taken a moment to rest while putting away clothes when she had stopped to admire the weather outside.

She was beginning to show indefinitely, her belly beginning to swell. She was now less nauseous and no longer had the urge to vomit, which was a relief to her. She had dropped a few pounds, which had concerned Carol. The older woman had been glad to see that she had perked up eventually, and now frequently spoke to her about the child's gender, a possible name... Jasmine admired the name Elizabeth for a girl, given that Daryl may appreciate it. Perhaps she would even be blonde... although she doubted. If it were a boy, perhaps she would name is Blake, after her brother. The only fear that Jasmine had at the moment was whether the child would look like Matthias or not. A shiver ran through her.

There was a sudden shuffling sound, startling Jasmine out of her thoughts. Her brows rose and she quickly turned to look over her shoulder. Her heart leaped up into her throat and she dropped the basket. Daryl was slumped in the doorway, eerily looking upon her with glassy eyes. He appeared to be struggling to breathe, his sides rising and falling in a labored fashion. " _Fuck Jas_ , m' head hurts..." he mumbled. Completely bewildered, she strode across the hall, thankfully catching him as he took another step forward only to falter and weaken, nearly crumbling to the floor.

"Woah there, Daryl, honey!" she exclaimed. "You need to get back to bed..."

"I was jus' gettin' some water-"

"I can bring you some water, silly," she chuckled, shaking her head as she cautiously helped him pivot. The two hobbled back to his bed, where he sat down. Daryl, of course, began to make grumpy comments about how he was " _alright_ ", and so on. As he usually would. The dark haired femme helped him slowly ease back upon the mattress, observing how he cringed and hissed in agony. Settling next to him, she looked him over with an expression of grave worry upon her face. His slate-blue gaze followed her, curious and calculating. Suddenly his breath hitched as she felt his forehead and cheeks, his entire body stiffening. He shied away, which caused Jasmine a bit of confusion. Was he frightened of her? Brushing it off, she rose to her feet and stepped to the nightstand.

"How long have you been awake?" Jasmine asked the archer. She pushed up her sleeves and reached into the bowl laying beside him, taking hold of the cloth and ringing it out with both hands. She then folded it two ways and began to dab at his face. The fever thankfully was beginning to let up, and since Fallon had given the group information about where possible medication could be found, his wound was no longer infected.

Oh, that was right. It had gotten too cold in the basement for Fallon a while ago, and so the group had finally decided to move her upstairs into Jasmine's old bedroom, since the mother-to-be had moved in with her partner. The thought caused a bit of stress to well in the back of her mind, like gather rainwater with nowhere to go... ever since Rick's near-death incident and the sudden pregnancy all wrapped up into one, Rick hadn't been as affection he had once been. It worried her.

"A lil' while ago," Daryl replied, mumbling softly. His eyes shut and his brows furrowed as he allowed her to clean the sweat from his face. If only he could shake the last bit of the fire in his veins... she knew he could, but for some reason it seemed to be clinging on like mold. Jasmine smiled softly and hummed. "You should try and rest as much as possible. That's the only way you'll get better..." Dampening the cloth once again, the silence ensued, the only sound that interrupted it being the sound of her shuffling around. At this point, his eyes had shut. Daryl had fallen quiet, and thus the young woman assumed that he had dozed off. Pulling away, she admired him for a moment, before she returned the cloth back to the bowl and turned to leave.

A hand shot out and grabbed hold of her wrist. Jasmine stopped and craned her neck to peer over at Daryl. He lay upon his side, looking up at her with innocence in his eyes. "Where you goin'?" he asked. Oh, he sounded so exhausted.

"Daryl, honey..."

" _Jas_.."

"I'm going to get you a glass of water... like you wanted." The archer remained still before finally he lowered his head before rolling back over and releasing her. Shaking her head, she proceeded to leave the room and head downstairs. It didn't take her long to reach up for a glass on her tiptoes and fill it with cold water. She then returned upstairs, having to stop midway to catch her breath. Pregnancy wasn't all that it had cracked up to be. She returned to Daryl's room and shut the door behind her; Jasmine then perched herself at Daryl's side, crystalline cup in her delicate hand. Gently, she shook him, only for him to simply stir slightly in response.

Giving up on her conquest, she set the glass down next to the bowl of cold water, she slipped down onto the floor next to the bed, gazing around the room. It smelled old, like a cabin that had sat for years in the woods; her gaze turned to the shelf beneath the top drawer. A single book was settled within its confines. Extending her hand, she allowed her fingers to trail over its tattered spine. She admired the rustic, ancient appearance as she grasped the novel, examining the cover with curiosity. Her green eyes washed over the worn leather, skimming over the front page.

' _Wildflowers Of The Southeastern United States_ '.

It was odd that Daryl had such an item in his room, let alone about wildflowers... but she supposed that it was something she could see him checking once in a while. For herbal and edible purposes. With dainty fingers, she allowed the pages to part, finding pressed flowers paired in with their definitions and illustrations. It was oddly touching. Daryl was such a brutish man, yet he kept a sort of... _scrapbook_. As she flipped through, she began to find the oddest things. A worn out sheet of folded paper with dark ink written in what appeared to be song lyrics. Carefully, she opened it and read it, studying the words for a few moments before folding it closed again and returning it to its rightful place. A few pages away from the middle of the book, the pages suddenly fell open to reveal a series of pictures.

They were Polaroid snapshots. A few of Maggie and Glenn, a couple of Judith when she was simply a babe. The make-shift crib, the prison cells, a view from the lookout tower off toward the open field. The grass was dotted with walkers, the fence high and proud. She continued to shuffle through them, smiling softly as she did so. Finally she came to one in particular that caused her to stop and inspect. A young girl with hair the color of golden milkweed fluff; her eyes were large and hopeful, a smile pinching her rosy cerise cheeks. She was taking a picture with her sister, then Carol, Rick... one for each member of the group. Others that Jasmine didn't recognize... Two little girls and their father, an older gentleman with a snowy beard and a kind smile, Sasha next to a rather handsome black man.

Jasmine felt her chest swell with joy as she found an entire group photo just a few more pages in. It was enough to make her eyes to well up with tears, knowing that some of these people were never going to see the lodge and the life they had now...

Daryl was in this one, standing next to Rick and Carol. He looked so young! Gosh, it was strange what life could do to one man in two to three years. His hair was shorter, his skin having a natural glow to it; as she looked upon the photograph, Jasmine couldn't help but glance over in his direction, taking him in as he dozed softly. Yes, it was definitely him... when studying the photo, it seemed as though he simply had grown his hair out. Nothing had exactly changed. Reaching up and over, she brushed his bangs from his forehead and ran her thumb along it's clammy surface. A great wave of affection washed over Jasmine, and thus she reached over and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm; unhealthily so, which caused her gut to roll. She was beginning to really worry about Daryl... Jasmine wondered sometimes if he was even going to make it.

She just prayed to God that he would pull through, and that he wasn't going to turn.

As she leafed through toward the end of the book, she found a set of three final photos. Two of which were with the snowy blonde; the first was of Daryl settled upon the prison's iron stairs, talking to a tall, lean gentleman in a sweaty wife-beater and cargo pants. Shock overrode her delight for a moment as she gazed upon his missing right hand, completely replaced with some odd sort of shank. Shuffling forward to bypass the rather disturbing sight, she moved on to the second photo in the bunch. The archer was nestled in beside the young blonde as she was smiling up at the camera (she was beaming, whereas Daryl was a bit unsure of himself, which she found endearing). The final photo was a bit blurry, but it was easy to make out that the girl had suddenly surprised him with a peck on the cheek. Daryl, disgusted, had attempted to rip away in time before she had a chance to take the picture... but she had successfully captured the moment!

Good on you, girl! thought the mother-to-be. Leaning against the bed, Jasmine knew exactly who this was without any thought. She was so elegant and sweet; she had that country girl look. This must have been Beth. Leaning her chin against the mattress, she tilted her body and stretched her arms out, cherishing the photo for as much time as she could.

* * *

" ** _Thank you for takin' care of him..._** " a soft soprano tone bounced from her left ear to her right and then back, rolling around within her mind just as she opened her heavy lids. Her pale emerald gaze fluttered open from behind dark lashes, falling upon Daryl's slate set. A bit befuddled, the dark haired matron slowly brought her head up. Realizing that she had fallen asleep, she blinked a few times more, attempting to remove the last bits of her slumber from her eyes. The archer was awake and had managed to sit up in bed without any help. She hoped that he hadn't been in pain... but then again, if he had been, his complaints would have woken her up. Jasmine sighed softly and stretched, glancing at the night table, then back to the archer.

He was settled with three pillows propping him up, his shirt unbuttoned and the glass of water in one hand. In the other, he held the photograph she had been looking at. Her heart lurched. "I.. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal things, I was _just_ -"

Daryl's eyes slowly moved to her, his head turning on it's joint. One look had shut her up... although he didn't seem upset. He simply returned his attention to the photo, studying Beth's face. Slowly, she rose to her feet, a hand upon her swollen belly. "I'm going to open the window, okay? It'll let some air in. If you get cold, let me know." Jasmine was desperately trying to at least get a few words out of him, considering that usually meant she was forgiven. There was a moment of silence before she unlatched the window and yanked it down, a chilly winter breeze wafting in. She took a deep breath and then listened to the silence.

"Couldn't let him hurt you..." Daryl began. "... I couldn't jus' watch you _die_. Not like her- not when I could've done somethin'." Jasmine's hands tightened around the curtain, bunching it up in one hand. Slowly, she turned to the archer. "I'd've rather it be me than you. Tha's why I stopped him-" Attempting to haul himself to his feet, he let out a grunt of pain and a few cusses upon Blake's name. Jasmine crossed the room and stopped him, settling down next to him as he struggled to sit up. "I jus' kinda moved n' didn't really pay any mind. I get it now..."

" _Careful_ ," she cautioned.

"I'm fine..." he retaliated, brushing her off. Jasmine nonetheless shuffled around so that she could check his bandages. Grasping the hem of his shirt, she paused, waiting for him to tell her to go away and stop bothering him.. but instead, he simply remained stagnant. Silence ensued, and thus she took it as him simply accepting that she needed to change the bandages. Carefully, she helped him remove his shirt, her belly brushing his bare back as she did so. Jasmine understood that he had scars upon his back: it wasn't as if she hadn't noticed them whenever she'd fix his wound. "Merle said you wouldn't survive..." Daryl continued, mumbling. Her heart clenched. "Said you would end up like _Beth_."

Yet again, there was another moment of tense silence. Jasmine hummed. "Is that so?" she inquired. She began to remove the medical tape, and then the bandage. The wound was no longer angry and inflamed. It appeared to be clearing up and healing very well, actually. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she had to ask. "Who's Merle?" Daryl peered over his shoulder at Jasmine and hummed an inquiry. He then chuckled. "Jus' my asshole of a brother."

His answer concerned her as she opened the first-aid kit she had retrieved from beneath the bed. She took out a swab of cotton and dampened it in solution before running it over the wound. It wouldn't be long before the lash would be completely scabbed over, and she wouldn't have to clean it. Jasmine didn't take long to finish. She returned the supplies to it's box and then shut it quietly. Her eyes drifted back up to the male's spine. Long nasty scars ran across his shoulders, two single worn tattoos engraved upon his upper shoulder and his shoulder blade, the color of worn copper. Reaching out, she gently trailed her fingers over the closest scar to the dark, demonic creatures punching into his flesh. Her touch had just skimmed his skin when the archer shied away. Withdrawing, she cleared her throat and allowed him to pull his shirt back on without any help.

"Jas...?" he murmured. Something prickled along her spine. She turned. Daryl rose to his feet, his legs nearly failing him. He wobbled and then grasped her shoulders, looking down with little confidence in his feet.

"What is it, Daryl?" she asked. Finally, his face turned upward, his eyes meeting her's. She had forgotten how tall much taller he was than her. Perhaps she was shrinking? The idea was amusing, for that would mean as her baby grew, it would become far too big for her to carry.

"Your hair is longer," he stated, taking a lock in his fingers. He swayed gently, as if drunk. His eyes were glassy, the fever clearly still latched onto him like a leech. She offered a sympathetic smile. "Yes, it grew," she replied. "I think I might keep it long until the baby is born." Without an answer, she nearly flinched as his strong mits brushed a few strands of her dark brunette crown from her brow. There was a moment of tension as they looked upon one another, something stirring within him clearly stated behind his eyes. As soon as she became aware of how close he was, he closed the distance. Jasmine felt the spark within her belly flare, but then all at once it became too much for her; before he could kiss her, the young woman took a step back and pushed him away.

"Y-You need to rest..." Jasmine quavered, a nervous laugh escaping her. "I'm... unsure of what exactly has gotten into you, but I don't think you're all there." She didn't take the time to hear his reply, she simply turned and left him there, unbalanced and falling over onto the bed. Swallowing hard, she shook her head as she went down the hall. Jasmine hastily picked up the basket of laundry and escaped the situation, her heart hammering as if she had been electrocuted.


	3. Chapter 22 - Judas Kiss

The weeks flew by and soon Daryl was beginning to go back to his old self. Despite the little situation days before- which he didn't seem to remember, Jasmine felt confident in being around him without having to fret that he may fall unconscious again. Her fears seemed to be diminishing each day, replaced by confidence in the archer. He was beginning to eat again (although it was mostly soft things, like pudding or porridge), and was trying to move about. Jasmine had removed the bowl of cold water and the rag from his room, and gave him clean sheets, as well as fresh clothes. The wound was no longer in need of bandaging, for it had closed up nicely. Wiping her brow after a long morning of cooking for the group, she had said her final farewells to them as they left the premises in search of supplies.

"Would you like to try walking today?" asked the brunette as she entered the room to take his bowl away. The archer was tediously cleaning his crossbow, most likely for when he was up and ready to use it. Right now, what he needed, was to build back his strength, seeing as the fever had sucked all his energy from him. There was a moment of silence as he proceeded to tinker with the weapon. "I'll be fine..." Yeah, he was slowly becoming his old self, that was for sure. Humming, she nodded and casually trailed along the edge of the bed. Slowly, she strolled up to the archer. Her eyes washed over the items upon the bed, curious as to what exactly they did.

There was a bottle of lubrication, a sponge and a rag... Jasmine's attention turned to the archer, eyeing the item within his hand. The screwdriver worked as he turned it, tightening any loose screws on the riser. A wicked grin laced her rosy lips, mischievous thoughts running rampant through her head. Leaning close, she looked at Daryl. The archer, after a moment, slowed his movements before stopping and turning his head up to face her. He appeared rather startled as she brought her face inches from his. " _You'll be fine, eh_?" she murmured. Resting her knee up on the mattress that lay between his legs, she allowed a dainty hand to perch upon his shoulder. At this point, his breath hitched and he tensed, completely at her mercy. The look in his eyes was not only dark and prurient, but priceless, becoming even more amusing when she snatched the screw driver from him and slipped away. The little bit of the crossbow hung loosely now, the nail landing in her hand.

Then you'll be fine without this?" asked the malicious woman. She eyed the screw within her hand, as well as the vibrant-handled tool. The archer took a moment to recover from the moment of odd behavior for Jasmine, an audible exhale escaping him stating that he had been holding his breath. He then rose up, stumbled, and caught her for balance. "C'mon Jas, give it back," he implored. It sounded as if he were speaking to a child. Jasmine's giggled and shook her head, taking a step back. The archer swayed, clearly having little to no patience nor confidence in himself to do this. " _Jas_ ," he warned. Oh, his tone was beginning to make her nervous... but nonetheless she pursued on, and continued to misbehave.

"Come get it then!" she chirruped, beaming devilishly. Batting her eyelashes, she waited. Daryl let out a sigh of irritation and took a few paces forward before he wobbled and stumbled. Jasmine managed to catch him, supporting him as he attempted to grab the screw driver. Pulling away, she stranded him in the doorway, where he caught himself on the egress. A smile twitched upon his face and the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. Relieved that he was having a bit of fun now, she proceeded on with her plan. "Come on. I know you can get it, Daryl." The archer responded with a roll of his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, Daryl began to walk more confidently, taking at least four steps now. Just as he was trying to take the fifth step, he swayed, suddenly lightheaded. Diving for him, Jasmine caught him just in time.

Alarm shot through her as he slumped against her. "You okay?" she asked. With no reply, she began to panic. Looking around, she felt completely helpless. The archer was growing heavier by the second, and with nobody in the house, she was all on her own in this situation. Oh, if only she hadn't pushed him! She felt awful. Jasmine gave him a gentle shake. "Daryl, honey... Daryl, please wake up..!"

Daryl suddenly reanimated, his body twitching and tensing; guttural noises gurgled within his throat. Oh no... no no _no no_! He couldn't have turned so suddenly, could he?! Completely terrified, she froze to the spot, unable to move. As Daryl's head came up, she looked into his milky-dead eyes-

She relaxed as soon as he began chuckling. Jasmine shook her head, realizing that his slate gaze was as lively as ever. "Not so tough now, _are ya_?" asked the archer, holding up the bolt and the screwdriver. Having been completely oblivious to his sneaky little trick, she looked at her hand in confusion, then scrunched up her nose. "You sly son of a bitch!" she laughed. The archer was standing perfectly now, as if the fever were all behind him. Jasmine placed a hand on her hip, audibly sighing in relief.

"Well, you seem fine now.." she remarked. Shaking her head, she extended a hand and coaxed him over. Carefully, he took a few more steps, before dropping the judicious way of traveling and becoming more adventurous. Reaching her, he took hold of her arms and began to stroll further, given that his legs seemed to disobey him once more. The two pivoted carefully and walked the opposite way, back toward the archer's room. After a few more steps, Jasmine released Daryl, and he began to walk at a reasonable jaunt. The two proceeded down the hall, which seemed to be going on forever until they reached the balcony. Jasmine made sure that he knew she was right beside him every step of the way.

As Jasmine backed up a few more steps and turned, she began the short journey back down the hall, only this time she began to increase her speed. "Do you think that you can catch up with me now?" she challenged. Daryl seemed a bit uneasy but eventually trotted forward. He jogged straight up to her, a slight breeze wafting up in her face as he stopped so abruptly. The archer wobbled, but she stopped him, beaming up to him. "Try going the other direction now." Doing as he was told, Daryl strolled away toward the end of the stairway, before breaking into a trot again, winding the corner that lead off onto the side of the balcony that overlooked the foyer. Jasmine watched him disappear from view and sighed in content. Oh, this was great! Finally, he was up and about.

A certain type of sadness washed over her as she thought about being left behind in the cabin; Daryl would start hunting again, and that would leave her alone most days, aside from Carol, Judith, Jordan, and even Reese. " _C'est la vie_ ," she sighed softly. The dark haired girl turned and registered that her bedroom door was shut when she had distinctly left it open so that Judith could get some air, and so that Jasmine could hear her if she were crying. Oddly enough, she couldn't hear anything coming from inside.

Then she strained her ears. Resting her hand upon the doorknob, Jasmine went to turn the handle; only to stop herself. The sound of breathy voices were coming from inside, causing her confusion. She eventually turned the knob and allowed the door to open a pinch, pressing her ear to the gap. She then peered in. " _Oh, fuck_..." Michonne's moans drawled out from inside the bedroom, the sound of creaking and rustling sheets causing her stomach to drop. Suddenly her knees were weak. From what she could see, she caught glimpses of ivory and raven, entwined into one beneath the sheets. Settled vertically upon Rick, she straddled him; her hips rolled as she rocked rhythmically, her breasts engorged and exposed in all their glory. Two large hands reached up to caress them, earning a groan of delight from the raven beauty.

Jasmine pushed the door open and gasped, bringing her hands to her to her mouth as what she saw before her suddenly ended. Alarmed as they had been caught in the act, the raven beauty let out a scream. Rick reached up and covered Michonne, who reached behind herself and brought the quilt up over the both of them. Almost immediately after her discovery, Daryl had reached her. "Jas...? Hey, what's wrong?" At first he was completely oblivious, up until he turned his head and immediately froze, following her gaze.

"J-Jas-" Rick fumbled. "I-I-" His partner covered her mouth, mirroring Jasmine's actions for a moment, before she allowed it to fall and slipped off of Rick, exposing his manhood for a moment before the blankets were hastily pulled up. "Jasmine... I'm so sorry!" Michonne wept. She bowed her head into the crook of Rick's shoulder.

" _You cheap, motherless prick_!" Daryl snarled, pushing past her and charging over to the very nude Rick Grimes. Jasmine turned away and began to sob, rushing to find shelter somewhere where she could come unhinged in private. There was a holler from down the hall as the group had returned and rushed to see what Michonne's startled cry had been about. Daryl, at this point, had lunged for Rick's throat and pinned him to the mattress. The leader's lover began to try and pry him off, and just before it seemed as though the archer was going to break Rick's nose, Abraham had burst into the room and ripped Daryl off just as he had been about swing. The brute tossed him away, sending him sprawling back into Carol and Maggie, who caught him. Daryl attempted to break from their grasps, huffing and growling in frustration, but remained where he was as the older woman grasped his arm. "What in the name of Christ's white ass is goin' on here?!" Abraham inquired, his voice belting out into the room.

"This lyin' motherfucker jus' fucked himself over- _he's fuckin' dead_!" Daryl struggled against grip of Rhee and Ford.

"Easy Daryl..." murmured Maggie. Glenn had just joined the party. Upon seeing the sights he didn't wish to see, he swallowed nervously and averted his eyes.

"What?! The cocksucker deserves every fuckin' thing I call him! After what he fuckin' did!"

Rick began to attempt to make peace, even as he so nervously covered Michonne. "There's no reason to throwin' around profanity- let's just talk this out-" That was when Daryl lunged again, his teeth exposed and his jaw set. "What about _Jas_?!" the archer growled. Glenn and Abraham snatched him, holding him back as Rick protectively cast an arm in front of Michonne, who hid behind him with wide eyes. " _You lied t' her_!"

"Rick, how could you?" Carol piped up, clearly upset too. "You would do this to Jasmine even after she came to you saying she was carrying your _child_?"

"Alright folks, let's jus' calm down..." Maggie soothed, raising her hands. "We need to leave these two to get dressed n' hen we can sort things out.

"No, this is their own business," Carol retaliated. She then shook her head and exited, followed by the young brunette behind her. Glenn followed third, leaving Abraham to drag Daryl back, whom stared Rick down.

"I ain't lettin' you go near her, you fuckin' hear me? _You're fuckin' dead if you do_!" Daryl threatened. Rick narrowed his eyes and turned to Michonne, soothing her quietly. Daryl was yanked into the hallway and the door was shut with a loud bang. Abraham let out an exasperated exhale and ran a hand through his hair, moving away from the stress of the situation. Glaring at the door for a good solid few seconds, the archer remained still, before he turned away and stormed off to find Jasmine.

* * *

Jasmine had to admit, she felt like a child as she laid beneath Carol's bedsheets. She sobbed heavily, her body curled into a ball; her torso heaved as she took deep gulps of air. She struggled to compose herself, the sheer impact of the moment having knocked her hormones flying. They now buzzed around within her brain as her heart ached and her face burn from both the effort, and the embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid? Shuttering, she curled tighter, holding her swollen stomach. She could now piece together what had been happened- if only she had known before the whole incident and hadn't found out too late. With how distant he had become, she would spend the night in Daryl's room, sleeping in the windowsill. It was beginning to get to a point where it became a nightly event. She wouldn't even get up to check on Judith when she was crying, leaving Rick to wake up and soothe her.

"Jasmine, honey?" Carol's voice was faint and thin. She could tell that it had hit her hard. The door shut softly behind her; a beat or so after, the sheets that were curled over her head were pulled back, revealing her ruddy tear-soaked face. Carol let out a solemn scoff and reached down, drawing her in. "Its okay... you still have all of us. Don't worry..." hushed the older woman. Jasmine clung to her like a young kid who had just scraped her knee, and cried softly as Carol stroked her hair. They remained like that for a while, even when Daryl sauntered in. She felt the older woman frown and her lips part. There was a moment of silence as Jasmine hid her face before the door creaked once more and Daryl made his exit, the latch clicking behind him.

Pulling away, Carol wiped Jasmine's face free of tears. "Just give it a few days to all blow over... don't you worry, everything will work out just fine." The younger woman's mouth opened, but all she managed to utter was a broken squeak. She then began to sob once more, her eyes shutting. A sigh escaped Carol and she leaned over, kissing her forehead and cooing to her. Jasmine's eyes peeled open, a film of hot tears blinding her, transforming the room into a mucky mixture of muddy tones. "Now, see here. Crying over a man who has done her no good... aren't you supposed to be Daryl's right-hand man?" she inquired, peering at her. "You're stronger than this... don't let this blind you to what is important in the long run." Carol's hand rested upon her abdomen. "For _their_ sake..." Silence ensued and she sniffled, nodding. "Are you going to be sleeping in his room? Or would you prefer to sleep here tonight?"

Jasmine swallowed, holding down nausea from the strain of crying and the stress. She hiccuped and swallowed once more, before croaking out a few words. "I'd like to stay here..." Carol nodded, understanding completely. She pulled her in ever so gently and proceeded to soothe her.

"Alright, my dear. As you wish..."

* * *

Freezing rain had rolled in by early evening, plunging the lodge into darkness. Jasmine shuffled around, lighting candles and trying to keep herself warm. After the situation between Rick and Michonne she had witnessed, she had cried herself to sleep next to Carol. The older woman had only woken her up for dinner, and now that it was to be served, she could feel her gut rolling. She would have to face the group herself. As she finished lighting the large standing candles, she was suddenly startled as she nearly stumbled over Jordan who chased after her scuttling pet chicken. "Hey Jordan," she mused. "Is Reese hungry?" Honestly, she wondered what exactly Jordan fed him; he was very plump for an avian in the zombie apocalypse.

"No, he already ate," the little girl trilled in her adorable southern drawl. "But I'm _suuuuper_ hungry!" Rubbing her hands together, she stuck her arms out much like a bird and 'soared' over to the den where she happily plopped down in Abraham's seat. The burly man had taken a shine to the little strawberry blonde and her pet, and Sasha had too. At times a complete stranger would most likely mistake them as her parents, which Jasmine found touching. The stairs creaked and her heart leaped. Carl was the only one to descend, thankfully. The small crowd all began to gather from different points in the house, including one odd man out in particular trailing behind Emily and Jude...

Her mask had been removed, her cloudy eyes gazing around unknowingly. Confused as to why the pale-eyed boy wasn't helping her, she eyed Jude carefully. She was just passing the three of them when Fallon perked up. "Oh, hello Jasmine," she peeped. A chill ran down her spine. She swallowed gently and her lips parted.

"Fallon," she replied simply.

"How is the baby coming along?"

"Well, I haven't felt any kicks yet, but I'm sure it won't be long before I do..." The two paired off from the group and stepped up onto the platform. "And the nausea went away..."

The blind girl nodded. It was hard to believe that a simple teenager could rule an entire empire, let alone one who couldn't see. "That's good news. I'm sure you're nervous for when the time comes.." Fallon purred. Jasmine hadn't really thought of it until now, and thus it hit her hard. Without modern medicine or a doctor around, she would be in for a hell of a ride. Retrieving a bowl, she began to fill one for herself... Jasmine then turned her head to face Fallon: her hair was flawless and always clean, her complexion of ivory, the beauty mark just below her bottom lip. She was a beautiful young girl, about Carl's age. Probably a year or two older...

Instead of taking the meal as her own, she handed the bowl to the young lady. She reached out and gently prodded her wrists before sliding her hands down to meet Jasmine's own set. She then smiled softly and retrieved the bowl. Why was her heart hammering in her chest? To be touched in such a fond manner by someone she had once called an enemy...? She couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine as she watched her trail over to Carl. This sparked her interest. The two greeted each other, exchanging simpered, before she caught up with Emily and Jude... All as if she could see just perfectly.

Jasmine was glad that for the moment Daryl wasn't around. He had most likely gone out for fresh air and gotten stuck in the storm... Hopefully he would return soon. She kept glancing at the door, over and over, listening for any sort of sound that could signal the Archer's return. "Jasmine, honey," Carol suddenly piped up beside her. "Take the bowl..." Startled by the older woman's voice, she broke away from her thoughts and looked upon her.

A look of concern marred her elegant features, causing Jasmine to feel a bit bad for leaving her hanging. Clearing her throat, she uttered an apology and handed the bowl to Abraham, whom she exchanged a glance with. He still seemed a bit irritated about the situation from earlier. "Nervous?" Carol murmured to her. Letting out a sigh, she shrugged. She hadn't said a word since the incident. The fire crackled and soft voices were beginning to fill the room. Maggie and Glenn were chatting with Sasha over by the fireplace, Abraham was conversing enthusiastically with Jordan and Carl; Emma, Jude and Fallon all sat together on the couch. Reese plodded around, bobbing his head curiously as his owner ate.

The stairs creaked and Jasmine swallowed hard. The first to descend the stairs was Michonne. Carol handed her her own bowl, exchanging nods with the beautiful woman. No matter how many times Jasmine looked at her, she couldn't escape how exposed she had seen her, nor the sounds she had made. Turning away, the young girl stepped over to the dish pit and began to clean up the bowls they had used to make the stew. "Are you not going to eat?" asked Carol. She could practically hear the older woman frowning. She shook her cranium in response.

"I'll save you some for later..." the older woman suggested, returning to the large pot perched up upon the island table.

Jasmine scraped the pot with all her might, ignoring how awful the water smelled or the sight of the disgusting morsels left behind. It didn't bother her at the moment; she simply needed to distract herself. She began to rinse out the large bowl just as the group's leader came venturing down the stairs. Judith's happy babbles could be heard, signifying that he was carrying the little tot. Her fingernails dug deep into the sponge as silence suddenly filled the room. There was the brief sound of a spoon scraping a bowl, and then Rick cleared his throat. "Evening folks," he greeted. A few voices returned the salutation, and then the chatter rose once again. Behind her, Rock began to make himself a bowl of stew. She could picture every muscle moving, the way his clear blue eyes followed the spoon, the way he placed the item within the meal and hoisted up the bowl; all whilst holding Judith.

Jasmine's movements slowed and she gripped onto the bowl for a while, staring at the wall just beneath the cupboards. Adrenaline courses through her, her hands trembling greatly and her legs had become weak. Taking a deep breath, she held her composer, continuing to wash and rinse. Her duty was just about finished when the familiar rumble of a motorcycle approached off in the distance. In that instant, she wanted to bolt for the door, but she knew that if she did, the others would stare. Gently, she finished her job and set the last dish on the tea rag to dry. Jasmine then carefully dried her hands and then ran a hand through her hair.

As she usually would, she tousled her dark locks and then looked out over the foyer, off toward where the others are their dinner. A great wave of halcyon washed over her as she pulled the sleeves of her long-sleeved shirt down from where she had pushed them up. Despite the conflict that had taken place earlier on in the day, the group still came together; even Fallon was participating in conversation. As her gaze rested upon Rick, she happened to notice that for a split second, he was watching her. The leader had thankfully averted his eyes and was now focused on his meal. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

No, she would not show weakness...

Jasmine turned and crossed the kitchen's hardwood floor, traveling toward the front door. Stepping off the lip, she knelt and removed her boots from the mud-mat. Tying them hastily, she then rose and reached into the closet, pulling on her coat. After she finished, she gracefully glided to the massive wooden egress and turned the handle, ignoring Sasha when she called and asked where she was going.

The door shut behind her, and she walked out to the edge of the veranda. Daryl was just trudging up the hill with his bike, two partially frozen rabbits slung over his shoulder. As soon as his eyes registered that it was her, she felt the lump in her throat form again.

 _I will not cry... I will not cry_.

He remained silent, his expressing becoming that of question as he proceeded to approach. As he came closer, she felt something squirm within her belly; the first kick her baby would ever make. The lump began to choke her, and she could feel the tears beginning to rise up into her lids. Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed, holding her belly. The soft golden light coming off the lodge cast over his face as he proceeded to trudge. His hair was ruffled from the wind, flames of snow peppering his shoulders. The cold had pinched his cheeks, his gate all two familiar. He was wearing his usual heavy leather coat and trademark vest. "Jas?" inquired the archer.

Jasmine bolted off the side of the veranda and ran through the snow, making a b-line for him. Surprised, Daryl slowed and stopped, catching her with open arms and leaving his bike to fall over in the snow. Burying her face into the archer's shirt and coat, she breathed in the familiar intoxicating scent of leather, the woods and snow; he smelled like the earth, the wild. The smooth aroma of tobacco outlined the archer's rough and broken edges, yet added to the incredible moment. Her fingers gripped the back of his vest, the touch of hide and the scruffy, worn imprint of the wings of a fallen angel having been stitched to the item of clothing that Daryl so often wore. His strong arms collected her and held her against his strong body.

" _What do I do_?" she wept, tears flowing relentlessly. "What do I do when the baby comes? How can I raise it without a _father_?" A large calloused hand stroked her back, his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin resting on top of her in a comforting manner. At first, the archer did not answer. Silence ensued as she sobbed softly into his chest, her body trembling. He allowed her to cry in his arms for a little while until he finally answered. "I don't know." His voice rasping in his throat as he spoke in his usual gravelly tone. "You're gonna raise it well, though..." Sniffling, she pressed herself flush against him, nestling her cheek up against him. They remained like that for a moment longer before she pulled away, wiping her eyes and letting out a sigh.

Daryl remained silent out of respect while she cooled off. "C'mon, I gotta put the bike away. Why don't you tag along?" he proposed. "The air'll help..." Jasmine sniffled and ran a hand through her hair, nodding as he picked up the bike. The two traipsed through the snow. "These are from Sasha's traps. I have t' admit, they aren't anywhere close to your's. She needs to learn a bit more..." For once, the archer was the one talking, and it was soothing. Jasmine listened to how his voice abraded through his chords, creating a warm, husky, sonorous sound. She could listen to it all day. He never really spoke in such long sentences, or at least not often.

The duo returned the bike in silence before walking to the front doors together. Jasmine went first, followed by the archer. All heads turned to look upon who had entered, yet Daryl ignored the group's attentive gaze. Casually, he pulled off his boots and then crossed the foyer. Mimicking his actions, Jasmine followed after the archer. Slowly the attention they were given diminished as the two went over to the stew pot to grab themselves a dish for themselves. Daryl then excused them, telling Carol that they were going upstairs to eat, as well as keep watch. Jasmine waited patiently by the stairs for him to return. Once the archer had made it to the staircase, he began to ascend, the wooden case creaking and complaining. Jasmine plodded up behind him.

The duo traveled in silence, passing through the upper balcony overlooking the foyer. Daryl handed her his bowl and then yanked down the latter from about. He then retrieved his dinner from the woman behind him and began to haul himself up to the look out. Jasmine followed in suit. Once she had reached the attic, she glanced around; it had felt as if she had just witnessed this space for the first time in millennia. The smell of mothballs and dust filled her nose, causing her to sneeze. Daryl had already lit the lantern by then, casting a warm glow throughout the room. He then rested in the windowsill and pushed the window open, letting in the chilly winter air. Jasmine shivered faintly, goosebumps rising upon her skin.

Quietly, she watched as Daryl began to eat as if things had not changed within the household; he ate as he would before the whole situation of Hatchback Grove. After a few spoonfuls, he turned his cranium and faced Jasmine. His eyes flitted a few inches in an awkward sort of glance and his lips parted. "Comin' to sit down?" he asked. Jasmine looked upon him for a little while longer, and then smiled softly.

Daryl Dixon was back.


	4. Chapter 23 - Dead Man Walkin'

**Mid March**

Jasmine shivered, her face completely ablaze as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She panted, her lips colliding with her partner's as he slammed her up against the lip of the sink. Dixon had her leaning backwards, her lower back digging into the rim of the ceramic basin as he embraced her. Their bodies were flush against one other, the archer's strong chest pressed against her own, rising and falling heavily as he struggled to contain himself. Her left hand was tangled within his hair, her right gripping the leather of his vest and the soft cotton beneath. The feeling of his large hands upon her hips, her legs trembling as he relentlessly kissed her; it was all so overwhelming. Her head was reeling, her pulse rushing, and her heart throbbing in her ears. Daryl groaned as she caught his bottom lip with her teeth, his shoulders physically tensing beneath his clothes. In an instant, he had lifted her up and over to the bathroom wall, her back slamming up against the rather chilly surface.

His tongue slipped between her lips immediately, battling for control of her mouth. A breathy moan of delirious fervor escaped her. Her blood was simmering beneath her skin, and judging by how warm Daryl's face was, he was just as heated as Jasmine was. With a fierce grip on her hips, her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, her tangled fingers snaking from his dark locks and joining it's associate in grasping his shoulders and clothes. The archer suddenly broke away from her, his lips trailing down along her jaw and then peppering the side of her throat, his teeth nipping her occasionally, causing her back to arch against the porcelain of the bathroom interior. " _F-Fuck_ -" she stammered, her voice a simple wisp of air.

Suddenly, as if she were weightless, Daryl lifted her up and turned on his heals and knelt, laying her on the ground beneath him. His hands were all over her, a calloused extremity sliding up beneath the lip of her shirt, caressing the soft ivory skin beneath. The two fought for dominance of one another's lips, just as they would in an argument. All emotion having been restricted for the past eleven months of knowing the archer was now overflowing into an aggressive assault, their bodies reacting to one another's in a carnal struggle. Their lips met once more, their noses brushing-

Her eyes snapped open, ripping her from the heated dream she had just been six-feet deep in. Her sheets were completely twisted around her left leg, the rest of them disheveled or knocked off the mattress completely. Jasmine shivered in the chilly air, her face still aflame from the rather hot fantasy her mind had concocted. Aghast, she remained stagnant, staring up into the darkness with wide emerald eyes. Her fingers, still trembling, latched onto her upper arms. Her hands slowly passed over her chilled flesh, goosebumps breaking out over her entire body. Her stomach became as hard as stone as she realized just how untamed the idea of Daryl had become within her mind, despite how often she attempted to shut it out.

Given the heart-break and agony that Jasmine had been put through recently, any sort of emotion or stirring of affectionate feelings toward anybody had been discarded and completely denied. It wasn't until now that she had realized that it had festered, becoming rampant and unsettled within the confines of her subconscious. Was it so bad to feel? Was it so bad to accept the fact that Rick was now gone? The man who would have fathered her child? She felt uncomfortable with these thoughts as the flow became unrelenting. Jasmine swallowed hard, letting out a trembling breath.

Rising from her bed, she disentangled herself and struggled to pull herself from the mattress. She was eventually successful though, lighting a candle and quietly padded across the carpet to her dresser. Jasmine changed into a fresh pair of undergarments, hooking her cotton bra and slipping the straps up over her shoulders. With a tug, she pulled open her drawer and began to search for her leggings. It didn't take long for her to find them and put them on, before searching for a shirt. Usually she would keep her pants and shirts in together, just to make things easier, given that she didn't have much to choose from. Jasmine used the top drawer to keep her ronins and their sheathes in, as well as her deodorant and comb.

The bottom drawer was for books and other items she used when she had free time, as well as a dried couple of sprigs of lavender which helped give her clothes a floral sort of scent to them. As she moved to shuffle through the right side of her compartment, she laid her hands upon one of the knit sweaters that Carol had found for her. It was long, the color of doves, and covered her up to her breasts in a v-neck formation, which she admired. It also accented her figure, which gave her confidence, as well as comfort. The young woman pulled the v-neck over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves, then ran a hand up through her hair.

Jasmine combed her dark locked out and then clipped up the back, her brunette locks sweeping over the right side of her cranium, a few strands dangling free from the left. Plodding to the mirror hanging on the wall to her right, she peered at herself curiously, candle in hand. Finally, she decided to unpin her hair, allowing it to cascade over her neck. The precious item of jewelry that dangled around her neck gleamed smartly in the warm glow of the flame. Smiling gently, Jasmine exited her bedroom. The brunette shut her door behind herself, and plodded down the hall. Taking to the stairs, Jasmine descended to the foyer and stepped up into the kitchen, setting down the candle holder on the marble surface of the island.

Being the first (well, second, considering how early Daryl was usually up), the young woman made herself some hot chicken broth and then set to lighting the candles within the foyer and parting the curtains, allowing the dull dusky blue light to filter in through the massive windows. First retrieving her mug of broth, Jasmine then plodded to the mud mat, tugged on her combat boots and winter coat. Picking up the hot mug, she unlocked the heavy front egress and opened the door with her free extremity. Stepping out onto the front veranda, she listened to the rain as it fell heavily upon the snowy mountain side. Daryl had to be freezing at this point.

The idea of the archer caused a great wave of anxiety to wash over her. Nibbling upon her bottom lip, she buried herself further into her coat and took a sip of the hot broth. The damp aroma of precipitation had been something she missed. Perhaps it was a sign of spring? That meant warming weather ahead... since it had to be around the middle of March, spring had to be right around the corner, right? She watched as swollen droplets of water welled upon heavy spruce branches, drooping from the weight of the frozen bubbles of liquid. Everything seemed to have a layer of glass, gleaming in the grey watery light.

The door behind her opened with a creak, the suction creating a rather irritating hiss. "Oh, good mornin' Jasmine," greeted the newcomer. Turning her head, she peered upon Abraham, who owned a rather large mug of tea. "I thought someone might be up. Didn't think that Daryl would light everythin'." The beefy red head wandered over to the chairs set out for viewing the plateau, and settled down with a mighty huff. He glanced over at her with a pleasant glance. "Comin' to sit down?" he invited.

Jasmine paused, processing, before she traipsed over, taking the neighboring seat. "How'd you sleep?" inquired the brunette.

Abraham shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "As well as I could. You?" The casual conversation was enough to drive her _nuts_.

"I guess I could say the same," Jasmine answered, shrugging. Taking a mouthful of the warm broth, she felt the warm liquid wash down her throat, warming her insides and cheeks. The sound of the rain drumming upon the roof of the veranda and hissing as it hit the snow filled the silence. The two enjoyed their warm drinks for a while longer before Abraham cleared his throat. Her head turned to face him.

"How, _uh_... how are you holdin' up?" he asked carefully. She felt her stomach twist. She knew what he was referring to, yet she remained quiet. "With the whole... _Rick_ situation." Jasmine honestly dug deep for this one. Her emerald eyes flitted off to gaze upon the woods in the distance. She let out a soft exhale, the oxygen drifted from her nose.

"Hey, that's alright. I'm sorry, I don't mean to bring things up. I was honestly just curious." His warm, pleasant tone was endearing. Although she didn't exactly stick near Abraham often, she still enjoyed his company.

Her fingers shifted upon the hot surface of the clay mug in her grasp. "No, no... it's okay. Honestly, I'm unsure about how I'm doing. Some days are easier on me than others. The hormones don't help." Shrugging, Jasmine flattened her lips together.

"If you weren't _knocked up_ , I'm sure you'd be out there with Daryl. I'm sure he would appreciate the company, and it'd help you distract yourself." Abraham's bass octave drifted to her ears with such serenity. Jasmine chuckled. "You've got that right," she murmured. "I miss it, I really do..." Abraham hummed. The silence proceeded on, the gap filled with the hush of the storm. "How are you and Sasha?" asked Jasmine.

"She's finally moved in. Startin' to think I should talk to Rick 'bout moving Fallon to her own room." The idea caused a pang of realization to wash over her. Since Fallon had been removed from the basement, they had had no trouble with her. It had sort of floated at the back of her mind, how she had treated her back in Hatchback Grove. She wasn't exactly sure about the complete acceptance as part of the group, but she understood that she had been patient, as well as pleasant about things, surprisingly. She had become less vocal of her opinion and rather bashful, now that she thought about it. "I honestly couldn't believe that she was blind when she told us."

"Also, she's eighteen... _how_?" Jasmine added, completely aghast. "Carl is a year away from being an adult like her, how could-"

"I believe it was the way she carried herself. It was hard to think of her as anything but their leader, I suppose. Plus, that follow of her's probably enforced her rules. Anyone who disagreed was treated like trash." Jasmine shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Abraham most likely noticed this and fell silent. "Either way, it's quite incredible."

"Those two have been spending a lot of time together, haven't they?" Jasmine pointed out.

Abraham chuckled deeply. "The first girl around his age is living with him in the same building. I don't think the kid cares about the circumstances. Jus' so long as he can get some tail!" Jasmine giggled softly. He was only being honest. Testosterone-fueled boy meets bad-ass young woman. Perhaps it was something about her original darkness that had intrigued him. "Still, it just makes me uneasy sometimes," remarked the brunette. She pulled one of her slender legs up and rested it under her thigh. "Sometimes I think that she might just up and betray us. I'm glad Rick is being cautious."

"Careful Jasmine. You're beginnin' to sound like Daryl."

"Good," she challenged, shooting him a glance. "I'd rather be cautious than blind!" Another throaty laugh escaped the red-head. Her seriousness turned into a simper and she shook her head and placed her now-empty mug upon the surface of the table between them."You mean paranoid?" Abraham chortled.

"Better than gettin' my bow stollen!" Jasmine jeered, taking on her own imitation of the archer's drawl. She raised her arms as if to hold the crossbow and fired it with a soft 'pew'. "Ain't gonna trust no one, no sir!" Abraham burst out laughing and Jasmine hushed him, even despite how she too was beginning to join his guffaw. The brute sighed as he came down from his moment of elation, shaking his head.

"Best not let him catch you sayin' those things. He'd have your head!"

Humming in agreement, she shrugged. "Well, he can suck it."

"Right on!"

* * *

Maggie and Jasmine were washing the dishes from breakfast, the smell of brown sugar and porridge giving the air a delectable aroma. Jordan was sitting on the couch, sharing a bowl with her companion, Reese. It was very obvious that someone was taking a bath upstairs, given the sound of the pipes creaking. "Do you think it's a bad idea?" asked Jasmine. Maggie frowned as she dried the dish in her hand. "Pardon?" she questioned, a bit confused now.

Jasmine turned toward the young woman beside her. "Fallon is being moved to Sasha's old room... I mean, do you think it's wise to give her somewhere to sleep _without supervision_?" Maggie reached up, putting away the dish where it belonged. She then set down the towel, placed a hand down upon the surface of the counter, and turned with a hand on her hip. She looked at Jasmine for a moment longer. "I think it's time to let her in. She's exposed herself to all of us; she took off her mask, she participates in family discussions..."

"Yes, but what if its all just a _lie_?" she inquired. She scrubbed the pot a few times, paused and shook her head. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry. I must sound crazy!" Maggie's damp hand rested upon her shoulder. The taller girl gave a sympathetic smile. "I know it's gonna be hard, but you know what? You were a newcomer at one point... people do things they're not proud of. Maybe she was being forced to make those decision for Blake. Maybe she wasn't in control of herself at that time." Jasmine sighed heavily and shook her head.

"Listen, I know that we've seen the worst of her... but I honestly think that she's turnin' around. Doesn't she always ask you about the baby?" explained the farm girl. "When Rick lost his wife, we watched him lose his mind. It made me realize that even good folks can stumble on their way through life. Maybe somethin' just hit her hard and somethin' snapped?" Jasmine finished washing the dishes and began to drain the sink. She remained silent. Maggie turned and began to finish drying the last bit. "I think that she's correcting herself, Jasmine. I really do."

"I know Maggie... I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so closed-minded. It isn't fair," she mumbled. Jasmine turned herself around and leaned up over the island upon her elbows. "Don't apologize, alright? I get it. I understand why you're scared."

 _No, you don't..._ she thought, her mind drifting back to the evening that she had taken Matthias in turn for Maggie's safety. _You don't understand_. It could have been _Maggie_ who was pregnant right now. It could have been _Maggie_ who had been pressed down into the dirt, taking the beating. It could have been _her_ with her womanhood feeling as if it had been turned inside out. It could have been _her_ with the empty, _disgusting_ feeling afterward. Jasmine couldn't have let that happen though, and now that she had made that decision almost four months ago, she had to pay the price. She should have killed him when she had the chance; him _and_ Blake. If she had gone down, she would have gone swinging. She would have gone down with their blood on her hands.

The heavy wooden egress swung open, the hinges shrieking faintly in pain. " _Cold_?" asked Maggie. The sound of the door shutting behind the newcomer caused Jasmine to turn her head. Her stomach swallowed her heart when she looked upon the sight of a drenched Daryl Dixon. His dark tangle of hair was plastered to his head, his shirt clearly soaked and slick, wet sheen to his vest. His coat was damp in different places, and his shoes were mucky. "Yeah. Its fuckin' winter out there, that's for sure," he replied. His gravelly voice shook her to the core. She felt as if she could listen to it forever; it felt as if it had been decades since she had heard him speak.

"Just be careful, we don't want you getting sick on us again!" Maggie mused.

"Yeah, I won't. I'll be fine, I've been out in worse..."

The archer struggled out of his coat and vest, revealing how his flannel was completely sopping down the back. The sleeves were cuffed up to his elbows, the grey-shirt beneath most likely the driest article on him. "Well, what else did you expect? _Summer skies_?" asked Jasmine. Her voice was an alien sound to her, and seemed to almost croak from her throat rather than ring as it would before. Daryl's eyes landed upon her and she balled her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't let the dream influence her actions. So what? Those kinds of dreams happened... and plus, she was hormonal. There wasn't anything to worry about. "How you been doin'?" asked Daryl, stepping up to the island. He fiddled with his nail as he usually would when talking. He always had to be fussing with something, always had to be moving.

"I'm alright," she replied. There was silence. Maggie watched the two for a moment longer before clearing her throat and excusing herself. The farm girl exited up the stairs, most likely to nap; she had been quite tired lately, especially after taking watch for two nights in a row. The silence continued as Jasmine rocked on her feet. " _Uh_... wanna see what I brought back?" Daryl suddenly asked. His hushed voice was music to her ears. Jasmine smiled and nodded. Slipping the bag off his shoulder, she noticed how he moved like liquid, as if the injury had never happened. It brought her great pride.

The two shuffled down the hall to the storage room, unlocking it quickly with the key in the empty candle-holder, and stepped inside of the musty room. The floor was cold, the chilly sensation felt even through her socks. Jasmine watched carefully as Daryl entered the room, studying how his back moved so smoothly; every muscle, every gesture, every slight bit of movement. Leaning in the doorway, she watched as he knelt and began to unpack. The archer pulled out jerky, applesauce, crackers, broth, as well as various packages of dried fruit. "I figured that we should try gettin' Judith on applesauce. Since shes gettin' so big, y'know?"

"Did you find any _other_ baby food?" asked Jasmine, curiously ambled over to the archer. She knelt beside him and began to help him unpack the sack.

"Yeah, but I didn't trust it. The expiration date wasn't on 'em," replied Daryl. He shrugged and turned his head to look upon her. She could feel his eyes eating at her skin, yet refused to look. Nodding, she hummed in agreement. Picking up the packages of dried fruit, she rose and began to head toward the shelf. Suddenly, Daryl managed to grab hold of her wrist, and just as he rose to his feet, pulled her up close to him, drawing her into a kiss-

Jasmine rose and began to head toward the shelf, her ears on fire from the little daydream that went through her head. For a split second, she could have sworn that something was going to happen between the two. Honestly, if he really did have feelings for her like the girls had expressed such a while ago, she knew that they must have been extinguished. After all they had been through though...

Reaching up, the young woman began to place the items she carried where they needed to be placed. Daryl shuffled behind her, obvious that he was mirroring her actions.

It didn't take long for everything to be put away. Daryl stuffed a hand into his pocket before he picked up the empty duffel bag. Swinging it over his shoulder with one swoop, his fingers held the handle limply with an extended wrist. "Wanna go out for a walk?" he proposed. The idea, from her point of view at the moment, seemed exhausting... but if it meant that they would be able to spend some time together...?

"Maybe later," she abruptly answered. Daryl's brows rose and he gave a gentle nod. Oh, she hoped that she hadn't disappointed him. His head tilted down and his foot scuffed the ground ever so casually. "Its too cold anyway. Might catch somethin'," he remarked, shrugging it off.

Frowning, she sighed. "If it stops raining, I'll definitely go out with you. I'd love to, actually," explained Jasmine. "You're right, I don't want to get sick, though." Her hand snaked down to the swelling beneath her sweater. His eyes followed, stilling upon her delicate extremity, before their shale-blue depths flitted up to meet her pale emerald gaze. He nodded his head gently. This whole situation had been a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. Exiting together, they had just made it into the hall, when suddenly the staircase creaked. Jasmine tensed, knowing fully well who it would be. As soon as Daryl seemed to notice, he closed the distance between the two; with a large mit resting upon her side, he guided her up toward the kitchen and then off the lip of the dais-like platform, and into the foyer.

They came to the edge of the fire-place, where she began to warm her hands. His hand lifted from where it rested into the crook of her waist, and he whispered something softly to her, which she completely drowned out. Jasmine could hear his foot falls, she could hear his soft mumbles to Michonne and his soft cooing to little Judith. This left her to sink to the ground gracefully, settling before the crackling flames. She felt very cold, very uncomfortable...

* * *

"Hey, Rick," Daryl called, crossing the foyer. The regal leader turned his head and gave him a rather confused look. He could see every bit of his weariness within his blue eyes. He wanted to smack that expression right off of his dumbass face. "I need to talk with you 'bout somethin'..." He kept his shoulders rigid, his expression clearly displeased. He really didn't want to do this. Really, really. Even as his lips moved when he spoke, it pissed the archer off. Clearing his throat, Rick blinked a few times. Michonne glanced between the two, clearly suspicious and apprehensive, just as the regal officer was.

Nonetheless, he handed Judith over to the raven beauty beside him and turned, giving him a nod. "Alright, let's _talk_ then..." he agreed. Daryl shook his head and gestured off to the door with a jab of his crown. Rick's eyes wandered to the egress before returning to the archer. He cleared his throat again, swallowing in the morning light filtering in through the large windows. The two parted from the lodge, pulling on their coats and boots in silence before heading out the door. The wooden egress closed with a snap of pressure as they exited, leaving the trouble behind them.

Daryl didn't say a word as he adjusted the strap of his crossbow, reassuring himself that it was there if needed. This sour feeling in his gut was beginning to get worse and worse as they approached the woods. The rain had ceased, the sun beginning to peak out from the thick veil of grey above. His jaw clenched as his irritation grew hotter and hotter by the minute, glowing like a hot ember in a fire pit. Even the fuckin' presence of this asshole was pissing him off. At the same time though, he felt awful. _Why_? This asshat deserved it...

The two had made it a few feet into the brush. Daryl stepped over a log, using the thick bow of an ancient beech to steady himself in case he tripped. "I uh... I think I already _know_ what this is about..." Rick stated. His voice cut through him like a hot knife- he wasn't prepared. Not just yet. "Might as well just spit it out now." Turning his head, Daryl peered over at the leader before turning his torso to face him. Rick had a hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. The archer's lips parted ever so slightly. There was too much to say, that was it. Simple.

"I can tell you honestly that things just fell into place. I honestly didn't expect it to happen..." the leader began. Daryl turned, beginning to travel forward once again, watching where he put his feet as he listened to him explain himself. Judging by the rustling of the snow and exposed leaves, he was following in suit. "Jasmine was distancing herself, and Michonne was there when she wasn't. She was too busy tendin' to _you_ to even communicate with me."

Tensing as Grimes fell in step with him, he avoided looking directly at him; Daryl watched the path ahead instead. If he happened to so much as glance at Rick, he wasn't sure what he would do to him... and he wasn't gonna take the time to find out. He didn't feel like returning with broken knuckles and a shiner. Jasmine would kill him. The two took to the path to the right, heading north, remaining side-by-side as Rick chatted away. He could feel him glancing at him. "I knew that she wasn't that attached to begin with. I should have been able to think better of it. I hope she didn' feel that she needed to stick around."

Swallowing, he began to feel that sour feeling in the pit of his stomach turn into an ache. His knuckles were turning white where they gripped the strap of his bow. "I was _really_ surprised when you knew about it..." Rick spilled. "'Cause honestly, I didn't know about her being pregnant until then. I just went with it because she seemed to be flailing, and I wanted to reach out." Daryl stopped in his tracks and turned his head, looking upon Rick.

" _What_?" he spat. Daryl narrowed his eyes and curling his lip up ever so slightly. "What did you jus' say?" His head bobbed faintly as he attempted to make sense of it. Daryl looked at him, his eyes peeling open wide. Rick's brow furrowed. He slipped his tongue over his lips, hands in his pockets. There was a moment of heavy silence; a raven croaked off in the distance, the sound cutting through both of them. Rick turned his head up to look upon the bird as it curiously fluttered overhead. Daryl didn't flinch.

He took a step toward the leader. "What was it that you jus' said?" he demanded, repeating himself. Rick took a partial step back, instantly defensive. "I didn't know about the pregnancy until _that night_..." The sentence hit Daryl like a bullet, tearing through him. His eyes widened, the aftershock of realization taking hold of him.

Rick sighed heavily and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "How... how did you find out? Did she tell you?" Daryl remained frozen to where he was.

"That crazy bitch told me..." he finally admitted, shaking his head. "The one in the basement."

" _Fallon_?" Rick corrected, albeit he was rather confused at this point. "But how in hell's half acre could she know?"

Silence ensued once again. Daryl shook his head and continued to traipse along, leaving Rick where he was. There was too much to take into account at the moment. It was overwhelming and unpleasant. The archer just wanted it to all be over. How could Fallon have known? How? Unless something had happened at Hatchback Grove that he was unaware of... Fuck, he didn't know anything about pregnancy even if it slapped him in the face! Did Carol know? Maggie? Who could have passed it to Fallon somehow? If it were _Rick's_... wait, was it even Rick's?

The thought made his head careen every which way. Daryl stumbled, only managing to catch himself on a nearby tree before he hurled into the brush. The familiar taste of stomach acid burned his tongue and throat, the bitter taste coating his taste buds. Rick had just caught up with him as he had finished wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Daryl spat out the acerbic taste as best he could in one last bullet of spittle, then turned to Rick, his face pale. The leader took note that he had just been ill, and turned his head, clearly put off. "I remember," Rick began once again. He caught himself, swallowing heavily. "I remember that Lori... Lori said once that it takes weeks for symptoms to show up. That's what put me off, it _didn't_..."

Daryl felt sick again, but swallowed it back. "It didn' make sense?" he finished. The leader turned his head to look at the archer, nodding. Rick's head then drooped and he looked at his feet. His chest was painfully empty as he looked upon the man he had once called his brother. Anger began to well inside of him. This wasn't why he wanted to talk! "And even after she came to you, yours or not, needin' someone she could call her _kid's dad_... you had the balls to go back on your promise."

Rick let out a breathy laugh and raised his head, grinning as if it were hilarious. "I didn't promise _anything_..." he rasped, turning his head down to face Daryl. His smile faded away. The tension crackled. The archer glowered at the leader, slate blue-grey gaze hard and sharp enough to slice through flesh.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ you?" he hissed.

"It wasn't mine, don't you understand? So if it wasn't mine-"

Daryl instantly knew that he was getting at, and retaliated. "How the fuck could it be mine, Rick?! How?!"

"You two were inseparable. She was always askin' where you were whenever you weren't around, and you'd do exactly the same thing. She practically gravitated toward you, so it was kinda hard not to assume!" Silence ensued as the archer never flinched from Rick's relentless gaze. "The way you were actin' sometimes I wondered if you two were just _screwin_ ' around." Rick's brows lifted and he took on a listless expression. "I don't know, maybe you were just _usin_ ' her because she reminded you of Beth-"

Daryl felt as if his body had moved on its own as he lunged, his fist colliding with Rick's cheekbone. The leader floundered as he tried to catch him, luckily grabbing hold of the closest branch he could snatch in his grasp. Pulling himself back to his feet, it took him seconds to pull his pistol from it's holster. The safety was removed with a latching sound, immediately following the safety of Daryl's crossbow as he too lifted his weapon. His eyes stared down the scope of his bow, his finger itching to fire, yet hesitating. " **Don't fucking try me, Daryl**."

Rick's body tilted to the side, bracing in case he had to fire. "Don't you fuckin' _dare_ bring her into this!" Daryl rasped. His voice cracked slightly in pitch as emotion was coursing through him. He could fire right now, and take Rick out.

Rick could easily slaughter him like he would an injured horse. A moment of harrowing reticence filled the gap. Upon impulse, Daryl lowered his crossbow and stepped right up to the barrel of the gun, feeling the frigid metal press to his brow. "You don't got the _guts_ ," he muttered. Rick slowly began to realize the situation and how out of hand it had become. "Not after all we've been through..." The wind whistled in his ears. Slowly, the barrel lowered and he took a step or two back. The archer's hands trembled against his sides, just as Rick's did as he stared at the gun. " _I ain't like Shane_."

The silence was unbearable. "No... no you aren't _Shane_ ," Rick muttered, completely aghast and insulted to think that his behavior had lead him to drawing a weapon on his best friend. "Daryl, I'm sorry. That... that was insensitive of me..." He shook his head, his expression becoming troubled. He put away the gun. "This can't be how things go for us- everyone's finally at peace here, _we can't_ -"

"It's already happenin'," Daryl clipped. His eyes lowered. "All we can do is work together... for everyone else." Daryl raised his crossbow up, his elbow tilting so that the archer could get a good look at it... he then gave it a cold, uncomfortable glare. He then lowered it so it could face the ground. He shook his head, his shoulders slightly drooped in defeat. Rick lowered his head, mirroring his actions. The lull in the conversation returned once again. It seemed to last forever.

The sound of Jude's whistle cut through the air, drifting from the lodge. The contending two simultaneously snapped their heads up, their eyes meeting. Startled, they wheeled around, bolting for the break in the trees. It didn't take them long to notice how the door hung open with no explanation. Breaking into a sprint, the two readied their weapons and entered the front door. Inside stood Michonne and Jasmine; the raven beauty stood in front of her protectively, sword drawn and pointed directly at his head, whereas Jasmine held a red-hot fire-iron, holding as if it were her own sword. Between the two women and the newcomers stood a tall, stalky man. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, maybe even pushing sixty; his belly was slightly rotund, his greasy black hair graying at the edges.

Facial hair sprayed along his jaw and connected at his chin, a cut upon his cheek dribbled crimson. The man turned, gawking at the two who entered with fear in his eyes. Daryl and Rick parted ways, the door slamming behind them as the archer kicked it shut. " _Please_ , I mean no harm! I've been hurt and I need medical attention- then I'll be on my way, _honest_ -" With a jab of his bow, he silenced the older man. Glancing at the gun in his hand, Daryl shot Rick a look.

" _Drop the gun_ ," Rick ordered. The pistol fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The leader then nodded to Daryl, who began to search him. As he was patting him down, the man let out a loud hiss and flinched. Daryl drew away with blood on his hand, recoiling and wrinkling his nose. "Look's like he wasn't lyin'," Daryl remarked.

"Michonne, go get Jude and Fallon," Rick shot, nodding off toward his partner. The slender woman nodded in reply, mirroring her leader's action, and then turned, darting for the stairs. "W-wait-" the man stammered, looking at Jasmine. "Hang on, t-tell 'em Jasmine-" Daryl slowly circled over to stand between the vulnerable woman and the injured stranger. Rick's gun dug into the side of his head.

"How do you know her name?" growled the leader, demanding an answer.

"I-" Suddenly the man cringed and let out a grunt, his raised hand falling to his side. He began to pant, trying to catch his breath. "B-Back at H-Hatchback- Fallon, Jude... _Jasmine_..." He cried out once again in agony, collapsing to his knees. Rick sheathed his weapon and sank to the ground at his side. He was clearly in need of attention.

Daryl felt anger and fear flare within his chest. "Rick, _what're you_ -"

"Jasmine, go grab the first-aid kit!" he called. The young woman blinked, coming out of her stricken state, and nodded, rushing to the kitchen. "Don't take your eyes off him, Daryl."

"Thank you..." murmured the stranger, clearly relieved. Daryl hesitated, but forced himself to look upon the stranger. If he tried anything, he would get an arrow through the skull, that was for sure. Jasmine returned just as Fallon and Jude ambled down the stairs. Michonne quickly skidded up beside them. Instantly recognizing the man, Jude shot Rick a glance, before kneeling next to him. "Ron-nnie, what ha-appened?!" questioned the young man. The two helped the injured man to the couch. All weapons were lowered, although they kept tabs on him, just in case. "Ran into some bandits while lookin' f'r food..."

Daryl even loosened up, allowing his arm to go limp as he cast his bow down. Shifting from foot to foot, he watched as Jasmine apprehensively began to help the older man out. Her hands were visibly trembling. He only hoped that it was because of the shock of the moment, and not for some other reason... " _Ronnie_ , is it? My name is Rick," the leader began. "Are you by chance married to an Emma?" The man's dark eyes brightened at the mention of the woman's name.

"Where is she? Is she _safe_? I've been searching all over for her since Hatchback Grove fell..." rumbled the man. Jasmine tensed and glanced over at Fallon, who had retreated back upstairs. Rick followed her gaze, finding empty space as well, before turning his attention back to the man. His eyes traveled over to the archer standing in front of the fire, locking eyes with him. The two took a moment to make a decision simply by exchanging a glance. "She's safe," Daryl stated softly. The man loosened up.

"She'll be thrilled to know that you're alive," Rick noted, nodding. Tear sprang into Ronnie's eyes and he sobbed. This only lead to him cringing as pain ran through him. As Jasmine exposed the wound, it was clear that he had been stabbed. He would be in need of stitches. Jasmine met Rick's gaze, worry marring her heart-shaped face. "We're going to need to call Carol..."

Rick once again looked up at Daryl. "Alright. Daryl, would you grab the radio off my hip? I'm gonna help Jasmine stifle the blood... make sure you use number six." Doing as he was asked, the archer snatched up the radio and dialed it back. Hopefully they hadn't gone too far. No matter how he tried to feel at ease in this situation, he could tell that Jasmine was uncomfortable (for reasons unknown, which made it even worse). Nonetheless, he bit his tongue and pressed down on the large button on the side. "We have a stranger here needing medical attention. All parties need to return to the lodge immediately," Daryl droned into the speaker. Releasing the button, the loud hiss of the radio took up the silence before there came an answer.

" _On our way_ ," Abraham replied.

" _What? Alright, be there asap_!" Glenn answered.

Finally, Carol replied on the other end. " _Who is it? What kind of wound is it_?" Daryl let out a heavy sigh and pressed down on the button. "We think it's a cut or a stab wound; somethin' done with a knife." The radio fuzzed as he released the button.

" _Is everything okay_?" asked Abraham.

"Everyone's doin' _fine_ , just get your asses down here."

Releasing the button, he clipped the radio to his belt. As he turned, he was greeted by Reese. The chicken bobbed his head nervously and scuttled through his legs. Hopping up onto the dais, the avian disappeared behind the island. Daryl pondered upon it for a moment before he turned his attention over to the others on the couch. Conversation drawled on. The man was beginning to lose quite a bit of blood... and the archer began to pace.

* * *

The wound had been dealt with accordingly. Unfortunately for Emma, Rick had explained to her that if Ronnie wanted to stay, he would have to prove himself. There had been a massive argument regarding whether Emma would leave or stay with Ronnie. The group was completely against the idea of her taking off with her husband, claiming that they'd surely parish; the older woman replied with the fact that she'd rather die with her husband than live with people who were ' _too paranoid for their own good_ '.

After a long evening of debating, Rick had evidently left him under Emma's supervision. The group ate dinner in near silence, awkward now with the newcomer around. Fallon ate upstairs, clearly the most uncomfortable with the situation. Perhaps even more than Jasmine and Maggie. For once, the young woman sat next to Glenn and his companion, eating her food ever so quietly and murmuring to the dark haired farm girl. "I _really_ love that color on you, Jasmine," she remarked. Jasmine could tell that she was trying to distract herself from the situation.

"Thank you, and the sweater's so soft. You'll have to borrow it some time..." she replied, taking another bite of her soup. She wished that Maggie could make bread like she had so long ago. They had found flour, and although they were shy of some ingredients, it had been refreshing to have something solid. Thankfully the deer that Daryl had managed to track down was enough to tied the group over for the evening, having been soak in the beef broth. Maybe she would teach her to bake next time. If there were a next time.

Speaking of the archer, the young woman turned her eyes up to gaze upon him. He was settled with his elbow propped up on the arm-rest to his right, his fingers gently placed upon his lips as he stared into the crackling fire. He seemed to be entranced by it, completely down for the count as he watched the flames dance and flicker. Jasmine followed his gaze, quietly swallowing what she had been chewing. She began to feel drowsy, her lids becoming heavy. Her dark lashes fluttered, and for a moment she felt as though she may fall asleep. It was then that she tore herself away from the warm hearth. Jasmine's attention turned to Rick, immediately landing upon the darkening bruise upon his cheek bone. She only hoped that it hadn't been left by who she thought it had been- unfortunately, she had a sneaking suspicion that she was correct to think of Daryl.

It upset her stomach, but she finished the rest of her soup. "I think it would be best if I turned in early for the night," Jasmine excused herself. Everyone offered their own farewell as she parted for the evening, taking to the upstairs floor after discarding her dirty bowl. Her mind overflowed with thoughts of how Rick could have received that bruise. Something was tearing the two apart. When she had first met the two, they had been thick as thieves, but now... now they were torn apart. The tension was getting to not only her, but to the rest of the group as well. Even Judith seemed to be a bit wary around her father and the archer. The idea of the little baby was what honestly seemed to send some sort of signal to tiny Judith. She began to fuss as she wandered by.

Jasmine smiled solemnly and entered the room, crossing to Judith's crib. Picking her up, she began to bounce her, resting her on her hip. The little girl began to play with her hair, babbling softly to the young woman as she quietly spoke to her, as if understanding her strange words. Taking her to the washroom with her, she began to comb out her blonde little curls and dress her in her pajamas for the evening. It didn't take her long before Jasmine was finished, too, her hair up in a small ponytail and her face washed. Hoisting Judith up from where she had sat her down temporarily, she carried her to her own bedroom, nervous of what might happen if she left Carl to watch her for the night with a stranger in the house.

* * *

Fuck, they were goin' at it. The bed was clearly creaking, the sound audible from even downstairs. Daryl was helping Maggie finish the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing until his hands were wrinkled from absorbing too much water. He was just drying his hands when he turned to Maggie. She was staring at him. " _What_?" he asked, clearly displeased by the attention.

"Somethin' wrong?" The farm girl shook her head, resting a hand on her hip. With a long sigh, she ran a hand through her hair. "How did Rick get that bruise?" she quizzed, her tone completely stone-cold. Daryl remained silent, then gave a little shrug and finished drying his mits. He let out a mumble, something along the lines of 'I dunno', shrugging his massive shoulders. Placing the towel back on the hook upon the lower cupboard.

Maggie shook her head. "Daryl, you can't just leave it at that. I need to know... if there's a problem between you and Rick still, maybe Glenn and I could-"

Daryl turned his attention over to Maggie, instantly defensive. "Listen, there ain't _nothin_ ' wrong between us. He's just a _dick_ and he doesn't deserve the respect. At least not anymore. Not until he makes it up to Jas..." Silence filled the space between the two of them. Maggie sighed and shook her head. Drying her own hands, she mumbled her own adieu for the evening, then turned and exited up the stairs. Daryl remained where he stood for a while longer and then shook his head. The archer went to finish the dishes, putting them away in their rightful place.

The mugs he turned upside down, the plates he stacked neatly; the bowls he placed inside of one another. So what if people noticed the bruising? Maybe some would agree with him- Rick had done such a disgusting, piggish thing, why couldn't they accept that? The creaking of the bed upstairs caused Daryl's head to throb. He mumbled something about the two being ridiculously fuckin' loud, and then finished returning the dishes to their rightful places. Abraham needed to fix pretty much all of the bed frames; they were beginning to bother even him. It woke him up every time he tried to roll over, and with little rest, Daryl knew he was even more of an asshole than he usually would be.

Ascending the stairs, Daryl began to make his way up to the third floor, making sure his footfalls were quiet. As he passed down the hall to the bathroom, he noticed that Rick and Michonne's room was wide open, their bed tidy and clean. Frowning, he glanced off toward Emma and Jude's room. No way... there was no fuckin' way that those two old farts were gettin' it on. Shivering, he plodded along the hall and slipped into the bathroom. There, he washed the dirt from beneath his nails and rinsed his arms and face, before he exited down the hall to his own chambers. So if the two of them were banging, where was Jude? Probably upstairs on watch with Rick and Michonne! Or something along those lines. He just knew, from living side-by-side with the little guy that he wouldn't stick around.

 _Hell_ , who would?

Blowing out the candle settled in the hallway, he finished for the evening, crossing to his bedroom door. Pushing it open, the archer closed the door behind himself. Daryl tugged off his boots and picked up his duvet from the floor (he must have kicked it off in his sleep the night before), and cast it onto the bed. As he approached and his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of two figures laying quietly upon the mattress. Daryl's heart sang as he registered that someone had come into his bedroom and fallen asleep in his bed. What was this, _Goldilocks and the Redneck Bear_? Clearing his throat, he was unsure of what to do at this point. Should he turn and leave? A soft sigh escaped the sleeping form, the gentle soprano accents making it clear to as who it was. Even before he knelt on the bed, he had a hunch as to who it was. Why was Jasmine in here with Judith? The little tot was curled up against her breast, Jasmine's arms enveloping her sleepy little form. Daryl reached forward and gently brushed Jasmine's hair from her brow, swallowing nervously.

The woman he absolutely admired was laying there in his bed. She had most likely come here to escape the noise next door to her bedroom... but why was Judith with her? Perhaps she was giving Carl a night off and keeping an eye on her instead... or was she simply afraid of leaving her alone with Ronnie in the house. Frowning, he settled upon the edge of the bed, propping his elbows up on his knees and resting his face in his palms. Running his hands over his face, he allowed them to flatten together as if in prayer, and rested his maw against his index fingers. After a moment of thought, Daryl laid down next to them, being careful so as not to wake them up. Slipping one arm behind his head, he nestled in. Staring up at the ceiling, he listened to their rhythmic breathing, sleeping soundly next to him as if they were mother and daughter. As if the apocalypse had never come, as if the dead had never walked the earth like man.

And even while laid beside the living, he felt like a dead man.


	5. Chapter 24 - Everything You Love

Ever since Jasmine had woke up that morning to find that she was nestled up against Daryl, baby Judith sleeping peacefully upon his broad chest, she couldn't get the image out of her head. It was something she replayed over and over in her mind. It had been something she couldn't drop, not even as she had risked sneaking out to go for a stroll through the woods. The inside of the cabin had become far too stifling for her, the tension having died down thankfully yet somehow remaining rather stuffy for her. She hadn't been outside in months- or at least not outside the cabin's front yard. Her green eyes trailed up along the clutter of naked trees, their leaves long gone since the beginning of autumn. The pregnant young woman's hand rested gently upon her swelling tummy, feeling the child squirm contently inside of her as she breathed in fresh air.

Perhaps the child would take on the wilderness in her... maybe Daryl could teach him or her to hunt and track? That would be delightful; the archer would make an incredible teacher, and not to mention a great role-model. Sure, there were other men in the group; Abraham would be good to teach them weaponry, Rick would probably teach them the basic necessities when it came to daily routine. Glenn perhaps could teach them to drive and wrestle with them... but Daryl Dixon would teach them how to survive. With the archer always doting on her and asking her how she was doing, checking up on her, she was beginning to wonder if the man was going to perhaps be the father figure that the child needed. Clearly their biological father wouldn't be around whatsoever (she would make sure of it).

The morning was crisp and chilly, and thus Jasmine bundled into her scarf and Daryl's heavy jacket. The archer had been sticking around quite a lot lately, just in case she was in need of anything. Granted it was also because of Ronnie's presence, but he was beginning to loosen up. It was touching for the young mother-to-be. A smile twitched at her lips as she thought of the rugged lone-wolf. For such a gruff man, he was quite something when he wanted to be sweet. Jasmine traipsed through the brush, listening carefully, the nostalgic feeling of her ronin in her left hand as she traveled as quietly as she could. She was definitely out of touch with herself lately, given that she had thickened in the last month or so. Four months pregnant: it had felt like an eternity, especially in the middle of an apocalypse. The hormones had made her extra worrisome and nervous, feeling as though her own caution was not enough to protect this child.

 _If Daryl catches me out here, I'm toast..._ she thought, chuckling softly. Still, Jasmine continued on, breaking her own expectations of staying near the cabin. She trailed along through the underbrush, her shamrock gaze taking in every beautiful sight there was. She passed through steep declines, crumbling slopes and through dead leaves that littered the paths. Jasmine was practically addicted to the smell of the fresh air, every sense she had trained upon her surroundings. Her head felt clear for once, and as she approached the babbling stream, she was very thankful for the fortunate events that had been granted to her. She had found that being without Rick hadn't been a loss, but a whole new page in her own story that she could write for herself.

By time she realized that she had lost herself in the moment, it was the middle of the day. Panic shot through Jasmine as she looked up at the crisp blue sky. The young matron whipped around and raced down the path, back the way she had come. Her breath screamed in her lungs, stinging as if she were inhaling fiber glass. Eventually she couldn't run any further, and slowed her pace. Jasmine had to stop and breathe for a moment, trying to catch her breath as she bent over and rested her hands upon her knees. Christ, she hadn't run in what felt like forever. This pregnancy was a curse! Eventually she continued along the path, her shamrock eyes taking in the surroundings she had passed by previously, never failing to feel such a refreshing sense of nostalgia. The sound of her boots upon the snow-scattered trail, the scuffling of the leaves beneath; the birds flitting across the bare canopy... Jasmine really needed to go out more often.

Once Jasmine had made it back (after getting turned around a few times), it was late afternoon. She had ultimately resorted to using the game trail that Daryl had made after using the same route for the last year or so. Ascending the hill, the young woman came to the front door and paused for a minute. Maybe they weren't back yet? Perhaps if they were, they had just assumed Jasmine had been resting or something... Wait, why was she so nervous? Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside of the building with a push of the heavy front egress. The foyer before her held an array of scattered folks. Carol stood in front of the fire, warming her hands; Sasha settled on the couch with her elbows on her knees and her hands pressed together as if in prayer, her mouth settled upon her index fingers as she stared off at the crackling fire. Closer to the door stood Abraham and Rick, the third standing with his back to her. Each person in the room turned their heads and looked upon her with relief, which allowed Jasmine at least some assurance...

"Where th' _hell_ have you been?!" Daryl's head unfortunately had joined the other's almost simultaneously, snapping around at break-neck speed. The archer was positively aflame, the anger coming off him in waves, making a b-line for her. Jasmine's stomach dropped and her faint smile faded. All that was left was a dark glare as he stalked up to her. "You got any clue how fuckin' dangerous it is for ya out there?!" he growled. The young lady's brows furrowed deeper, but she continued to lean back against the closet's sliding doors and pull off her combat boots.

Unlacing one at a time, the silence was harrowing. "You kind of scared us Jasmine... we didn't know where you were," reasoned Carol, interjected into the reticence. "For all we could have known, you could have been taken or worse-"

"Yeah, but you all know that I can handle myself just fine on my own..." the brunette replied, trailing off as she stood up. "I'm _pregnant_ , not handicapped..." Brushing past the archer, unwilling to look him in the eyes. If she did, she would surely lose her temper. He was acting so high-and-mighty, like he knew what was best for her. Stepping up over the lip that lead into the kitchen, she quickly strode across to the little corridor that lead back to the supply room. She could already hear him following after her and the frustrated sighs from inside the foyer as the handful of group members that had been fretting over her.

Just as she was about to make it to the bathroom, she felt a large calloused mit clasp around her slender wrist. Her breath hitched in her throat, immediately knowing who it was, yet nonetheless startled. Jasmine turned to him, her chest tightening in frustration. "You even listenin' to what we're sayin'?!" he growled, his voice rasping like it would a snarl in an angry dog's throat. The young woman managed to pull herself free, only for the archer to snatch her by the upper arm and yank her back from the inside of the bathroom. A grunt escaped her as she twisted around and once again yanked herself away, giving him a push.

"Will you _quit_ it?!" Jasmine quipped, glowering up at him just as a cornered snake would. She could feel her temper beginning to boil over unusually fast: perhaps it was the hormones. Estrogen or not, she didn't appreciate being tossed around like a doll. "You don't have to man-handle me to get my attention, Daryl! Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm delicate. I can handle keeping myself alive-"

"You ain't gonna stay alive if ya keep goin' out alone 'n' doin' such stupid fuckin' things!" countered the archer, stepping up closer to her. His slate-grey gaze chewed into her, searing her flesh and bleaching her bone to dust. Jasmine, remaining silent, couldn't get over how the air surrounding her now smelled heavily of pine, damp clothes, leather, and the faintest hint of tobacco. The scent was so familiar yet so overwhelming each time he was near. Dixon continued to scold her, only egging her on and encouraging her blood to boil and bubble.

"And you expect me to just stay inside all the time, like a good little house-wife? This lodge is _suffocating_ me, don't you understand?" she insisted, trying to explain. Maybe if he would just hear her out- "I'll only keep sneaking out if you and the others don't give me at least a little bit of leeway."

"I ain't lettin' you put yourself in danger. Its safest for ya here, and that's-"

A spark of red-hot adrenaline shot through her. A dry bark of laughter escaped her. "It isn't as if you're the baby's _father_ , so why should you have a say in what's good for them?!" she remarked. As soon as the words left her mouth, a soft gleam of hurt flashed behind Daryl's slate gaze. The two remained rigid and frozen, gawking at one another for a moment. Jasmine felt her legs beginning to tremble. It was true, so why did she feel so devastated that she had finally come out and said it? Her throat locked up and her lips parted to speak, only for the archer to interrupt her.

"I'll jus' take you outside from now on, alright Jas?" he murmured, his stern tone having melted away, disclosing that her words had scored into him deeply. Swallowing nervously, the young woman remained still. Uncertain of what to exactly reply to him with, given that Jasmine was also surprised by his sudden submission.

"Thank you," she finally managed, her voice coming out in a soft croak. The archer turned away, his footsteps slowly becoming more and more distant. Turning, she leaned in the doorway and at first stared off toward the tiled wall. Why had those words felt so wrong when they had left her mouth? Why had he reacted like that? Why had he just left the argument there? The brunette knew the archer like the back of her hand, and she most definitely knew that Daryl Dixon didn't back down from a challenge. He was far too stubborn. Jasmine's eyes then drifted down to the linoleum floor, her tongue passing over her dry lips. _Why_?

* * *

Recalling these events, Jasmine's hand stilled, the spoon within her grasp coming to a stop halfway to her lips. The soup in the bowl before her was steaming pleasantly, the inviting aroma of broth and barley rising from the hot liquid, tickling Jasmine's nose. Daryl had settled down next to her after returning from a long evening outside the cabin, smelling of the bitter cold woods and the brisk wind. He always had that wilderness about him, never ceasing to refresh Jasmine's senses. The archer was rough around the edges, but as she looked over at him with uncertainty, she couldn't help the warmth resonate within her belly. The brunette watched as the rugged man settled back in the wing-back beside her, eating quietly. "How were the snares?" asked Rick softly, shooting him a glance.

As the archer turned his head to look over in the leader's direction, Jasmine removed her attention from him, sheepishly peering over at the crackling flames in the fireplace. Jordan and Judith darted around, the little tod clumsy on her feet as she fumbled after the older girl. Reese was rested by Abraham's feet in a sleepy bundle of dark feathers. The way Jordan played with the small child was endearing, given that she had most likely never had much of anyone to play with. Perhaps that was why her most valued companion was a chicken? "Caught a few more rabbits. Looks like they're startin' to come out again," he pointed out, taking a spoonful of his soup. Jasmine nestled back into her chair, her warm knit sweater keeping her at a temperature to surely be content with. With a stir of her silverware, she pondered quietly, listening to Daryl's soothing voice resonating from beside her.

" _Hm_!" articulated Rick, clearly with his mouth full. There was a beat and then he spoke again, having swallowed his food. "That's good. Means it's a sign of spring, right?" Someone's spoon let out a smart _clnk_ as it randomly collided with one of the pottery bowls. "Warmer weather coming too," added the leader. Daryl hummed in agreement, continuing to eat. It was the oddest thing. She could just as easily pick his voice out a crowd, no problem. It was a comforting sound to her, something she had become so attached to, much like a child with it's favorite blanket. It startled her, in all honesty, how much she adored it. Nervously, she adjusted herself where she sat and began to eat a bit quicker, trying to finish her meal.

"Hey Jas," Daryl suddenly murmured. Jasmine nearly jolted out of her skin, her heart leaping up into her nose as she turned to see him looking over at her. Right, she was sitting there with her strange mix-and-match family, eating dinner in the lodge. Her dark lashes fluttered over her pale gaze, waiting for him to continue. "Wanna head out f'r a joyride? Abraham found us a new truck t' make runs easier."

Wait, did he say _truck_? A vehicle? This sparked Jasmine's interest. The young woman perked up, her brows raising. "Yeah- yeah, sure," she replied, her voice soft. She was a bit bewildered by his sudden ambition to go out with her. With a nod of his heavy head, he told her to eat the rest of her food before they left. Jasmine gobbled it down as quickly as she really could, only to be beaten by the archer as his spoon hit the bottom of his previously full bowl. Daryl was up on his feet and heading for the kitchen. Jasmine shot him a side-glance and then finished her own bowl with one last spoonful, before leaping up and scuttling after him. The two set their dishes in the wash-basin and they quickly moved for the front door.

"Where are you two goin'?" asked Abraham from across the foyer.

Daryl was already waiting for Jasmine, slipping on his leather coat and then ducking his head under the strap of his crossbow. "Out," the archer responded, his gruff voice cutting into hush over the room and the crackling of the fire. Rick met the rugged man's gaze and they exchanged a nod. Jasmine finished lacing up her boots and slipped on her winter coat and scarf, and then followed after Daryl Dixon. The man turned the handle and pushed open the front egress, a chilly breeze wafting in, damp with precipitation. The snow was beginning to ebb away, retreating from it's place upon the ground. Jasmine closed the door behind herself and then breathed in the aroma of coniferous trees and leaf-litter.

The creak and then click of the egress closing behind her resonated out into the hush of the blue-lit evening, the brunette allowing the screen door to follow suit with it's usual hiss. What happened next nearly gave Jasmine whiplash. The archer's hand was suddenly clasped around her wrist and she was being lead off toward the side of the house. The brunette wasn't sure whether it was impatience or eagerness. Stumbling, her free hand cast to her abdomen, her feet dragging behind her as she failed to keep up with him. That would certainly have to be something she worked on, given that she had become a little rusty when it came to moving quickly. She felt rather clumsy and cumbersome sometimes, feeling more like a duck than a pregnant woman. Still, she remained silent, allowing him to guide her to where he liked.

The two came around the back of the cabin and Daryl soon released her from his steely grip, as if finally assured that she would not try and flee. Burying herself further into her coat, she shivered, her breath coming in silvery puffs. The grass was mucky and wet, and squished underfoot. There was so much water now under the earth that it was erupting from the crust. At the bottom of the hill sat a massive pile of broken branches, draped over the object in question in order to hide it from any sort of intruders. It was tucked off where the trees thickened. Daryl reached up and began tugging down branches, Jasmine assisting by taking the broken tree limbs and setting them in a neat pile off to the side. The jingle of keys caught her attention, and she couldn't help but smile. The truck was rusted, appropriately so for a vehicle that had been outside in the weather for so long.

It felt so surreal, looking at the truck, examining it's handle and how it gleamed so smartly. The door swung open and Daryl was already hopping in, Jasmine skirting around the front to the passenger seat. The handle was chilly against her bare hand, the heat coming from her skin creating a sort of foggy outline around. Slipping up into the seat, she closed the door behind her, the smell of musty pine and damp rain filling the cabin. The truck roared to life, rumbling a bit halfheartedly, yet nonetheless Jasmine was content with the sound. In a way, it made her almost forget about how shitty the world had become. Humming in satisfaction, she leaned back in the leather seat, earning a glance from the archer and a faint grin. The brunette pulled her seat-belt on, knowing fully well that Daryl would scold her if she didn't. She was in fragile condition, after all. Jasmine shifted in her seat as they pulled out, the automobile rocking as they did so, moving along the wooded back-trail with the least amount of finesse as it could.

Soon the path smoothed out, and they began to find their way toward the highway. It was nice, the dim silver stretch peering through the canopy. The sun would most likely set soon. The two remained silent, listening to the rhythmic hum of the motor and the sound of the gravelly path beneath the truck. Daryl turned the steering wheel and changed gears as if it were second-nature, driving with great amounts of skill. The vehicle turned the bend and approached to where the hidden driveway broke off onto the empty tarmac, snow crunching beneath the tires. Jasmine leaned her elbow upon the ledge beside the window, eyes glued to the sign that read " ** _Staff Entrance Only._** " They seemed to be perhaps a few meters away from the entrance, when suddenly Daryl's arm jerked, the clutch changing gears, the wheels kicking up powder and pebbles behind them as they lurched forward. Jasmine was pressed back into her seat, her hand shooting out and gripping the "holy-shit-bar" above her head. The truck jolted once again as the gear was shifted once more, the vehicle swerving out into the open and eating up the blacktop before them.

At first Jasmine could hardly breathe, a squeak of alarm erupting from her throat. She hadn't driven this fast since they had escaped Hatchback Grove, nor had she ever driven with archer himself, given that her attention during the last little escapade within any sort of automobile had been diverted; Jasmine had been too busy trying to keep the archer's blood inside of his body. Her heart hammered within her chest and she stared out the windshield. " _Daryl_ \- please- s-slow down!" she gulped, shooting him a side-glance. The archer was sneering as he once again moved the clutch and bolted down the road even faster than before.

"Hey, open th' glove-box, will you Jas?" inquired Daryl, almost too innocently for his own good. Jasmine, completely glued to where she sat, looked over at him as if he were insane. Eventually she swallowed back hard and reached for said object, opening the latch with a click. There were various objects: napkins, sanitizer, a pack of cigarettes, a driver's manual... and a few CD cases. Curious, her attention now averted, she retrieved the CD and shut the glove-box, leaning back comfortably now. The two exchanged a glance, Daryl's gaze soon returning to the road. His one hand rested upon the wheel, the left propped up on the windowsill by the elbow, fingers gently caressing his lips as if to hide them. " _Motorhead_?" mumbled Jasmine, her brows arching high. Without another word, she opened the case and then shut it was a sharp clack, the disk being inserted in the CD player, the contraption eagerly eating it up.

Daryl's heavy mit removed itself from the stick-shift and turned one of the knobs, turning the volume up. Jasmine nestled herself back in the leather seat, listening to the music with careful ears. "You actually _like_ this kind of stuff?" she asked after a few moments, although she soon realized that it was a dumb question. He was a biker, what other genre could he have ever listened to? The two exchanged another look, Jasmine catching the archer just as he shrugged his broad shoulders. He was continuing his silence it seemed, which shut her up. Clearing her throat, she leaned back on the glass of the window, the vibrations from the vehicle filling her skull.

* * *

The brunette flower had dozed off, only awakened as suddenly Daryl's hand came and rested upon her shoulder. Jasmine jolted and grabbed for his hand, only to stare directly at the archer. They both held an expression of awkward realization, and then moved away from one another. "You fell asleep," he drawled, pointing out the obvious. Nodding as she rubbed her eye, Jasmine removed her seat-belt and then made her way out of the truck. Hopping down, she came to the blatant realization that she was unarmed. Had Daryl even noticed? Maybe he would lend her his knife if it came to something. Turning, Jasmine zipped up her coat and walked around the truck bed. Quickly falling into step with the archer, the two now stood before a gas station, peering over at it with eager eyes. Oh! He had brought her along on a run- _this was it_! She couldn't help but smile. " _C'mon_ ," urged Daryl. The two fell into step with one another and strolled up to the building.

"Shouldn't I have a weapon?" she asked.

"You don't need one. I'll look out f'r ya," he explained, his eyes focused on the padlock upon the doors. Jasmine was about to open her mouth and protest when suddenly there was a loud thumping sound. Three walkers were now pressing their faces up against the glass, the clear complexion already having been smeared before this, most likely having been drawn by other scavengers. Obviously they hadn't taken their time to risk picking the lock only to be attacked by three hungry shambling corpses- unlike Mister Daryl Dixon, who suddenly brought the butt of his crossbow down upon the padlock. The large chains suddenly became slack and sank to the ground.

"I think I could handle myself, Daryl," she dissented, frowning. Daryl shot her a glance, warning her not to test his patience. Suddenly the doors opened. Jasmine, determined to prove him wrong, snaked her tricky hands to his belt and snatched the old buck knife, just as soon as he raised his own weapon. The handle was a rather glamorous and girlish silver, fitting her hand perfectly. Why did he have such a delicate handle on this blade? The first walker to approach, she stretched up and took by the throat, embedding the titanium into it's eye-socket. Maggots dropped from the roamer's scalp and scattered across the shoulder of her large jean-jacket, which she brushed off quickly. Blackened blood grew sticky upon her fingers, coating the blade with a generous layer of disgusting muck. The body fell into her, which she easily pushed off and away from herself, a dull thud resonating from the pavement.

An arrow was let loose and zipped over her head as she bolted inside, a harsh 'hey!' escaping her partner as she left him outside. The sound of his footsteps following quickly behind him alerted her to the fact that he was hot on her heels. She felt nonetheless heavy as she moved, although moved forward with as much confidence as possible. Another walker reached toward her, her first reaction being to stop and raise her foot to strike the creature back. Unfortunately, she was too slow, her ankle snatched by the hungry corpse; she had forgotten that they weren't completely dead, their reflexes somehow still sharp enough to catch her by surprise. Maybe she was the undead one? The creature yanked her forward, only for a strong arm to wrap around her waist. Daryl nearly lifted her up off her feet and swiftly tilted both of them to face to right in order to protect her, his arm stretching out and firing a bolt straight through the bridge of the walker's nose. Jasmine blinked vigorously, skirting around behind him and slipping from his grip, alarmed by the feeling of his solid frame against her back.

He turned on her then, clearly pissed off that she ran ahead. Jasmine let out a heavy sigh and brushed her bangs back casually. "What'd I fuckin' tell you?" he asked. Stepping around the lone-wolf, acting as if he were merely talking to air. She wasn't interesting in arguing... not when they had a job to do. She could feel his eyes burning into her, but ignored the archer nonetheless. Her head remained high, wiping sticky blood from her complexion as she had caught some of the walker's tainted sludge upon impact. Jasmine quickly hopped over the counter with a grunt of effort and knelt, beginning to search for any concealed weapons or keys to a possible jackpot room. In the mean time, Daryl was most likely stewing in his own frustration as he scowered the wracks and shelves.

"Anything interesting?" she called finally, having wiped the knife off on her loose-fitting jeans. Oh well, she was sure that Carol wouldn't mind. After all, what was a good pair of pants without a little blood to break them in? She could hear him rustling a few bags, indicating that he was most likely looking at either crackers or chips. Strolling down the isle, she trailed her fingers along the cold steel bars of the displays, looking at the prices as she did so. Money was such a trivial thing now... there was no need for a bank account, no need for a job, no need to be part of the well-oiled clock that had once been society. Rounding the corner, she joined her companion, her tummy suddenly aching for the taste of sour cream and onion chips. "Sweet!" she chirruped, snatching the back from the archer.

Daryl looked upon her with a look of confusion, even as she side-stepped around him and twirled happily, breaking the back open with a crackling noise. Reaching her hand in, she raised a few of the precious potato chips to her lips, opened her jaw as wide as it could, and shoved them into her eager mouth. Saliva burst between her lips, the taste heavenly upon her tongue which had been deprived for so long. From behind her, Mister Daryl Dixon let out a snort. "Keep eatin' like that 'n' you'll stay fat after the kid is born!" he heckled, following along behind her.

" _You ffucthin' ash-hull_!" she protested from behind a mouthful of crisps. " _That'sth not ffunnhee_!" Jasmine couldn't help but giggle though, his rather teasing remarks something she had missed. Turning on her heels, she got a good look at the archer in all his messy, wild glory. The archer's eyes had gleamed in such a way that she thought he could shoot her down with a simple glance. That sly little smirk of his tugged at her heart strings suddenly, her face feel as if it had been plunged into a hot bucket of blood. Wheeling around, she skipped off. "Least I will keep myself clean, you dirty varment!" Jasmine shot back.

"Hey!" Daryl mused, clearly pursuing her at a quicker pace now. Jasmine sped up, a giddy set of butterflies miraculously forming within her belly and then shooting up into her chest. Her heart fluttered along witht heir wing-beats and she couldn't deny the squeal she let out as suddenly the sound of his boots rubbing the linoleum the wrong way alerted her to his fast approach. "Get back here, rat!"

"I ain't gonna run int' the armsova smelly man!" she drawled, mocking his southern heritage with a ridiculous twang in her speech pattern. It was clear that both of them were stumbling and slipping on the smooth linoleum, but they were laughing like children, unperturbed by any sort of danger that may have been lurking outside the unfastened doors of the gas station. Just as Jasmine came screaming across the floor, bolting for the fire exit to escape Daryl's wrath, there was the sudden shouting of voices. The two immediately fell silent, both glued to where they now stood. Jasmine caught sight of a few heads bobbing through the dimly-lit fire exit and ducked her head down, crouching. She felt incredibly exposed now without Daryl beside her, dread filling her as she grasped for some sort of escape from the sudden approach of strangers.

" _Woo-whee_!" caterwauled one bandit, exasperated. "I haven't seen _nothin_ ' like that since the start. Hope Atlanta clears out soon.. there's gotta be so much shit up there that we could live like fuckin' kings, eh?"

"You got that right. Ain't gonna be easy with jus' the three of us though... why don' we call Tony 'n' 'em down to see what they think?"

" _Guys_ -"

"Tony's startin' to turn into such a prick lately! I don't see why we gotta listen to such a self-righteous-"

"Will you two _shut the fuck up_?!" A heavy, husky tone shut the two chattering men up. "Th' lock's gone!" Jasmine's heart dropped and she scrambled down onto all fours now, crawling as quickly as she could as she heard footsteps rushing for the front door. Just before they caught sight of her, she had managed to curl her knees to her chest and hug herself, just slim enough to hid at the very end of the shelves. "Th' fuck happened here?! D'ya think someone got in?!"

"Search the place. We don't need anyone sneakin' around here... don't need no _Goldilocks 'n' the Three Bears_ shit!" the husky voice growled, clearly unimpressed with the current situation. Jasmine hadn't even though about the fact that the place could be occupied. It seemed to be like their base camp, or something of that effect... Her eyes followed the figures as they were reflected in the glass, holding her breath. It was clear as she caught a watery glimpse of the two within the foggy pane that they were armed. An AK-47 rested within the inked-up arm of one of the bandits, cradled with precision, yet as if it were his child. Jasmine felt her cardiovascular muscle leap up into her nose as suddenly the man in question turned his head to shoot a glance down the isle, causing her to toss herself onto her feet.

She tripped over her feet, the burning sensation of the heels of her palms being skinned open shocking her nervous system. The sound of footsteps were then apparent, forcing her to move once more, only to twist back around as another member of the trio began his own stroll down the neighboring isle. She was practically drove for the edge of the shelving unit. She was trapped... and as she began to contemplate taking matters into her own hands and attempting to escape, a hand suddenly shot out and she was yanked back into a firm, muscular body, a large hand covering her mouth and muffling her startled cry.

Pulling away, she turned to her captor and with a deep, trembling gulp for air, tears beginning to prick at her eyes as she peered up at the archer. This was their base-camp, and if they found them in there, they would surely have their heads. Daryl seemed just as worried, although held some oddly endearing steeliness to him, giving her a sense of comfort; she was not only happy to be with him at her side, but now more confident. Pressing a finger to his lips, he slowly rose up, peering over the shelf, only to pop back down like a merekat. His index finger remained idle for a moment, hovering within the air between them as they waited for some sort of opening...

"You think there's anyone _actually_ in here?" called the first bandit. The archer suddenly motioned for her to follow, which she eagerly obliged to. The two quickly jogged whilst in a crouched position, being sure to step lightly. As they approached the end of the isle, Daryl peered around the corner. Giving a nod, they readied to take flight, when suddenly they reeled back as a shadow came into view. "I don't see nothin', Gus..." mumbled one of the rather higher tenor tones. This bandit was probably younger than the other two.

 _Damnit!_ Jasmine thought. Wait, there was another possible exit, being the fire exit she had found earlier. Her hand suddenly snaked around the archer's large bicep and turned him around, bolting for the other end of the linoleum path that seemed to be forever confined to. Just as the brunette shot forward, Gus's jean-clad ass was in view. With too much momentum in her shoulders rather than in her legs, Jasmine just about lost her footing, only for the archer to snatch her by the collar of her coat and just narrowly pull her back with a sharp heave of his wrist. The young woman skidded back on her own behind, feeling foolish now, her entire face on fire as Daryl had just witnessed her nearly barrel head-first into a stranger's - and possible threat- backside. Slowly the archer backed up toward her, the pregnant girl pulling herself to her weak ankles. Her entire body was trembling now, ready to give out from all the back-and-forth.

As quickly as possible, they shot out of view, wheeling around the final two rows of shelves. It seemed as though they were almost home-free, when suddenly Jasmine dropped the blade she had been holding onto so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The noise suddenly alerted the bandits and the two clearly knew this, immediately diving behind the ball and the final isle of snacks. Jasmine's head collided with the linoleum hard and before she really had time to clutch her ringing skull - _Jesus Christ!_ \- her hands were suddenly upon the archer's broad chest, grasping the fabric of his vest and the cotton button-up beneath. Their eyes latched onto one another's almost simultaneously, and they stared at each other, holding their breath as they laid there in such an awkward and almost romantic position. Each hand was rested on either side of her head, his one leg rested between her legs as if readying to make a move on her. He was so close that she could feel his uneven breaths upon her cheeks. Jasmine's throat was suddenly dry as she heard the angry grunts of question of the strangers and the scuffling of their approach.

Daryl immediately broke the contact, crawling off her. The two bolted to their feet just as the three men made for the source of the sound and raced for the fire exit. Her heart beat wildly within her chest as the door was kicked open and the two ran free from the formidable building. The sound of voices hitting the air behind them as they tore across the back alley only added fuel to the fire that had been lit beneath their asses. They weaved through the garbage bins and then around the side, worming their way between the rough brick and the smooth surface of the large green bin. The smell of rotting trash filled Jasmine's nose, suddenly nauseating her, only to thankfully be muffled by the smell of pine and rain. The clamor of the trio's running footsteps leaving them behind slowly grew more distant after they had seemed to be directly upon them.

Clearly not the smartest bunch, that left Daryl and Jasmine gasping for breath with only a hair's-length between the two of them. There was only pounding of her heart, the hiss of the rain, the distant moans of approaching walkers, and their panting in the silence of the evening. After Daryl had taken a few moments to decide that they were in the clear and loosen up, she could suddenly feel his slate depths upon her. Jasmine was yet again left with a moment burned within her memory, and now suddenly felt self-conscious. Her cheeks burned and she averted her eyes, refusing to even shoot him a glance. Snaking out from between the brick wall and the crouched archer, Jasmine pushed by him, knowing fully well that he would follow.

On their way back to the vehicle, the were careful and silent, making sure to watch where they stepped so as not to make too many tracks. If those three assholes could track, they wouldn't want to leave enough evidence for them to use in order to follow them home. They made it to the truck and the doors shut loudly behind both of them, the motor coughing before starting up. They began to drive away quickly, only slowing once Daryl knew that they had put some distance behind them. Silence filled the vehicle, the rumble of the motor being the only interruption. Her gut was in knots, her palms were sweaty, and all she could imagine was if Daryl hadn't caught himself quick enough and what would have happened if their lips had... suddenly it was very hot in the cabin of the truck. Reaching over, she cranked the window down and leaned out the window, watching the rain fall down from the dark sky above.

The hush of the precipitation brought her down from the sudden anxious high and she took a deep breath of frigid air. "I'm sorry about the knife..." she murmured softly, glancing over at Daryl. He seemed a bit caught off-guard by her statement, his steely eyes casting a startled look off in her direction. "We can go back for it tomorrow, right? I'm not letting it stay there..."

"It don't matter now. They'll probably keep it anyway..." he replied, eyes remaining on the road. Something seemed to change in his eyes and she couldn't help but feel guilty now. "Glad ya made use ovit. I ain't gotta reason t' use it since I got my own..." His praise sort of cheered her up, and she no longer felt like a complete idiot for just about face-planting between a bandit's goddamn legs and giving them away. Daryl fell silent once more, leaving them within that awkward void of reticence. A deep sigh escaped Jasmine once again and she peered back out the window. Hopefully he wouldn't miss that knife too much. She was glad that he was at least trying to make her feel better after losing the blade, but for some reason she still felt upset with herself. Her cheek squished against the heel of her palm, only for her to react with a sharp hiss of air as she felt the sweat from her skin seep into the injury she had gotten when she had slipped.

Examining the scarlet smear with a grimace marring her features, a deep frown lacing her lips. With another frustrated exhale of air, she cranked the window shut, the rain now rolling down the glass, the truck rolling west toward the lodge. They would be back soon, hopefully. Her hand fell into her lap and her head rested back against the back of her seat, her eyes shutting tightly. Perhaps she could doze off again? Jasmine remained still for the time being, only managing to drift partially into her own mind. Eventually she gave up and looked out the window, watching the trees go by in the darkness. "Hey Jas, could y' grab me another CD?" Daryl's gruff voice cut through the silence, almost startling her out of her thoughts. The brunette mechanically reached for the cases resting at the foot of the cup-holders between the two, then picked up one out of random that appealed to her. One hand snaked up through her hair, dark tendrils falling out of the way. She would surely have to cut it soon.

"Jas-"

" _Hm_?" Her head came up, and suddenly the vehicle moved slowly, the next few events taking place in rapid fire. Daryl was suddenly so close again and this time he had closed the distance, his lips pressing to her own so softly. Jasmine felt so many emotions in a crashing wall of water, and she pushed away from before she had time to even think about kissing him back or not. Daryl was clearly upset now, his nose wrinkled. The truck swerved and she twisted her body around in order to keep his eyes away from her face, her hand covering her mouth.

" _'m sorry_.." the archer muttered from behind his palm, realizing now what he had done. Jasmine shifted uncomfortably, now practically gawking out the window, refusing to turn to even look out the windshield.

This was going to be one long, painful ride back.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I AM SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LOOOOONG! ;0; With school starting up again, it has been a pain in my butt trying to keep on track with the plans for this part of SNSOS. I hope to finally be able to post proper content more often for you guys. I'm glad that you're all enjoying the story so far! Oooooo, and it looks like some drama is beginning to stir up~**


	6. Chapter 25 - Will Die

The truck pulled up the pitch-black driveway, the rain hissing against the roof in loud resonating thuds. Branches scraped over the surface, grating within Daryl's skull as he stared ahead. The archer was anxious to get to the lodge, his grip so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. Deep trembling breaths were drawn into his lungs, his lips feeling as though he had singed them upon Jasmine's soft mouth. The cabin felt stiflingly hot, to a point where Daryl could actually feel the heat seeping out of his skin at a million degrees. The collision of their lips had set his skin ablaze and he couldn't shake it. It was as if he were sitting in a sauna, the air thick enough to choke him.

He had kissed Jasmine.

In a sense, he understood what he had been doing when he had asked her to grab the CD. It had been deliberate in order to test himself, to see if he had had the courage to actually follow through. It had been intended to work as a possible (and rather awkwardly preformed) plan. Daryl hadn't exactly thought of himself as someone who would initiate this kind of thing... in fact, it was the furthest thing from his mind. Lately though, he had been getting the sudden impulse to reach out and pull her close, even in the stupidest of moments.

Like when she would be talking with another member of the group during dinner, or when she would wash the dishes. When she would laugh at something Glenn would say, or when she would run a hand through her hair. Since the archer had gotten back on his feet, Carol's words still bounced around between his ears. _"You find that girl, you find both of them... and when you find them, and they're home safe and sound, you tell Jasmine how you feel."_

It had come as a shock to him, to hear Carol speak of his so-called " _feelings_ " toward Jasmine. He had been utterly perplexed, having mulled the idea over and over within his head that there was a possibility of him being in love with Jasmine Cuckle. This was the woman who had appeared to him with barbwire caught around her ankle, trying to climb up a tree next to a smoldering building whilst in pursuit of a group of the undead.

This was the woman who he had freed from a trap by cutting her hair off with an ax and potentially taking her head off if he had been perhaps in inch too close, the woman he had fought tooth-and-nail to find after her kidnapping; the woman who had driven him to jumping in front of a bullwhip in order to save her from her possible demise. This was the woman that above all odds had managed to keep him alive, even after his body had gone into toxic shock. They had been through so many arguments and even after Rick had separated them, they had still defended each other no matter the odds.

And after days of consideration, it was clear to him that he was deeply submerged in an intense adoration for this girl.

What a cluster-fuck this was.

 _"...tell Jasmine how you feel..."_ How the fuck was he supposed to do that? He couldn't put it into words, he didn't know the right time. She had just recently split from the man whom was the father of the child she carried and he didn't want to prod an already tender wound. As the duo ascended the slope that lead them home, the archer's lips parted. He had to say something- he couldn't just leave things like that. Daryl tried to say something but the air caught in his lungs, the words locking up within his throat. Not a word could he utter he realized, and ergo the archer shut his trap and continued to drive. She couldn't even look at him, he was sure of it. Daryl swallowed what little moisture he had within his mouth down his parched throat. He had most likely just added insult to injury with that simple brush of his lips.

The archer pulled up and turned the vehicle to the left, then put it in reverse and carefully placing it back where it originally had been in the greenery behind the cabin. The truck came to a stop and even before the engine could be turned off and keys removed from ignition, Jasmine had removed her seat-belt and opened the door. "Jas, _hey_!" he called, as if saying something to her would fix things at the time. Daryl unfortunately watched her run away into the pitch-darkness, the light that had been bleeding from the cabin having been extinguished quite some time ago.

As quick as he could, he tore after the young woman, trying to catch her before she would be able to push her way into the cabin. Clearing the two steps, his foot landed hard on the spongy wood of the porch. Within one long stride, he cleared the distance between them and quickly grabbing her wrist. "Wait-" he pleaded, stopping her just as she had opened the door.

"Jas- please, jus'-" Jasmine quickly turned to the archer, tears welling at her dark lashes. Before he could say anything else, the brunette attempted to yank herself away from the archer's grasp and let out a whimper. "Daryl, d-don't!"

" _Jus' listen for a sec_ -" he insisted. There was the dull popping sound of something separating, and suddenly the button of her denim jacket's sleeve gave way. Daryl stumbled and fell back on his ass with little finesse. Finally, he skidded down the steps of the deck, colliding with the soft muddy ground below. A hiss of frustration escaped him and he cringed as pain radiated up his tailbone. He looked up to see that Jasmine was no longer there, the screen door clattering close violently. Defeated, Daryl collapsed back, staring up at the pitch-black canvas above.

"Well, you certainly fucked up!" remarked a jubilant southern voice. It was clear that this on-looker was quite amused. The sound of feet hitting the squishy ground came to his attention, and before he knew it a hand reached down in order to help him up. Daryl reluctantly pulled himself to his feet with the help of Abraham Ford. With a clap on the back, he guided his mucky comrade to the base of the porch steps. Settling down upon the lip of the boards, he patted the damp surface beside him. "Take a seat, brother," he offered. Daryl, embarrassed and uncomfortable, slumped down beside the beefy man. He placed his face within his calloused mitts and let out a groan of frustration.

"Here, have a swig o' this," he suggested. The archer raised his head and turned his slate-blue gaze to rest upon the thermos that Abraham was offering. Retrieving the container, he unscrewed the cap, the delicious steamy aroma wafting up out of the aluminum bottle. Taking a swig, the smooth liquid danced over his tongue and down his throat, allowing it even as it singed his taste buds. Daryl couldn't give two shits at this point; the pain was an old friend that was welcome at any time. Coffee and bourbon. It reminded him of late nights with his brother. It had always been a good treat after a drug exchange gone well.

He could never handle bourbon, yet he kept chugging. Letting out a dry, raspy cough, he blinked furiously as the beefy man snatched it away. " _Woah there_ , don't _hog_ it all!" he laughed. "What've you got to forget?"

"What?" he breathed, still recovering from the heavy drink.

"No one drinks bourbon that fast withou' a reason!"

Daryl scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "I dunno. I gotta forget 'bout a lot of things..." he grumbled, running his hands over his face. "What 'bout you?" The wind began to moan softly as it hit the side of the cabin. Abraham took an audible breath, clearly preparing to tell the story of a lifetime. A grin played at the redhead's lips.

"Well, th' war wasn't all peaches n' cream..." Abraham began gently. "Every day you'd be draggin' your friends back behind cover, dead 'r alive... not knowin' whether today was gonna be your last 'r not." The trees creaked and complained in the heavy breeze, swaying to-and-fro. "Watchin' your friend get blown t' shit... I'd say that's drink-worthy." Daryl sat there in total shock, blown away by how harrowing his past had been. He had almost forgotten that the auburn-crowned man had fought in the war. "Whether its witnessin' someone you've known for _months_ drown to death in his own blood or someone you've survived up until now with be _eaten alive_ by blood-thirsty corpses... There ain't much of a difference. It gets to you though."

Daryl sat there in stunned silence, feeling as though his chest were ready to cave inward. Christ, he had a way of cheering folks up! Old war stories- there was no better way. "'Course Sasha helps too..." finished the hulking man. Abraham brought the thermos to his lips. There was a pause as he took a swallow of the alcoholic delight. Daryl stared out toward the treeline, his eyes trailing carefully along the damaged alabaster complexion.

"Is that what _Jasmine_ does for you?" The question came out of nowhere, stopping Daryl's heart in its tracks. His head turned and looked over at Abraham. Silence filled the gap between them for a long time. Daryl's eyes dropped to stare at his boots and the grain of the wood beneath them. "I get it..."

"I fucked up," he croaked softly, unable to really still his wagging tongue. "It ain't like I wanted to rush things... after..."

"After what happened with Rick, she was devastated, yeah. I think you helped her through a lot of it," Abraham pointed out, handing him the thermos. Daryl gratefully retrieved it and took a swig, no longer acute to the burn it gave his esophagus as it traveled to his gut. Returning the bottle, Abraham hummed, the sound resonating out of the inside of the aluminum and creating a sort of hollow sound.

"She had Carol, Maggie-"

"Y'er right, but whether you think so or not, you gave that girl something to hold onto," Abraham explained. "You're a big part of her life, and you've become an even bigger part lately." Daryl could feel the buzz beginning in his head. Even as he turned his cranium, it felt as if his mind were ahead of his actions and his actual physical being was just lagging behind.

"Yeah? N' if that's th' case, why'd she run off like that after I-" The archer swallowed his words and bit his tongue, holding back the urge to growl in frustration. "After I kissed her." Now it was Abraham's turn to fall silent, clearly baffled by the sudden confession. "You tell me how I'm supposed t' make up f'r that... what I'm supposed t' tell her when she asks me 'bout it." Running his fingers up into his hair, he scraped his scalp with his nails.

"You kissed Jasmine?" asked Abraham. Daryl gritted his teeth. "Ain't that music to the ears. Was startin' to think nothin' was ever gonna happen between you two!" His words were coated with honey and lovingly draped with adoration, and yet these exact things were what drove him up the wall. The archer bounced to his feet and turned to Abraham, just being able to make him out in the lamp light he had brought outside with him. The flame flickered in the wind as it howled.

"This some sort of game y'all bet on?!" barked Daryl. "Some kind of joke? Y'think y'all can jus' treat this like some kind'ov _gamble_?"

"I ain't saying that, Daryl. I'm jus' saying..."

"Yeah, well, it ain't funny!" growled the archer. He shook his head and curled his lip, eyes falling to the ground. "If I hadn't had been so God-" Daryl suddenly swung his foot back and kicked the porch step, mud flying up. " _Damn_ -" Again, he slammed his boot into the wood, and then once more for good measure, each more violent than the last. " ** _Stupid_**!" Rocking back on his heels, he felt the weight of Abraham's probing eyes searching him for some sort rational thought within him. Bringing his hands up, he cradled the back of his head and turned, stepping out into the rain. "n' now she won't even talk t' me..."

"That ain't true. You two are like magnets... she's bound to come around. Just let the dust settle and maybe tomorrow she'll be in a better state of mind to discuss it," the stocky man explained, grunting as he too pulled himself to his feet. A strong hand landed upon his shoulder, the two of them now standing out in the freezing-cold rain storm. "Women are weird things, but they're also powerful as shit. If they can change a man- for better or worse- then that's something worth waitin' for."

Abraham sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. Daryl just couldn't fight the feeling that he was just talkin' out of his ass, so that he would feel better. The archer knew Jasmine, and he understood that she would need her space. With a heavy sigh, Daryl turned around and ascended the staircase. Judging by the heavy foot-falls on the hardwood, Daryl knew that Abraham was following behind him. The screen door closed behind the two and the heavy egress was then shut. Daryl shivered as the warmth of the lodge wrapped him in its velvety arms, warming him up quickly. He had been soaked to the bone out there, and there was no doubt in his mind that Abraham had been drenched just the same.

"Just think about what I said, okay?" murmured Ford. He was given another clap on the back, just as he would any other time, and then passed as the gunman headed for the stairs. The wooden case creaked as he disappeared up into the second floor loft. A hollow reticence filled the foyer, the distant sound of the wind buffeting the side of the lodge the only interruption. Deciding that it would be best if he took off the mucky clothes he was wearing, the archer followed in Abraham's footsteps, running a hand over his face with a sigh. Traveling down the hall, Daryl could hear soft conversations from a few of the bedrooms, candle light leaking in through the cracks of the doors.

Finally he made it to his own quarters, placed his hand on the door knob and then turned. The light washed over the inside of the dark room, illuminating his empty sheets and the pictures strewn across his mattress from the night before. A few laid upon the floor, which he crossed over to and knelt beside, picking them up. Putting them in order, he placed them back inside of the book of wildflowers. Daryl, holding the weight of the memory-filled novella, returned it to the bedside table.

The archer was quick to change into a clean pair of jeans and then head back down the stairs, his mind reaching for anything but the idea of Jasmine. Unfortunately, it was all he really could think of. As he made it back down to the den, his eyes trained upon the crackling flames, his own frustration grew and grew. Daryl wrung his hands, approaching the couch settled directly across from the hearth, hovering behind it for a moment. The archer's nose wrinkled and he glowered at the floor, skirting around the side of the sofa before sinking down onto the plush surface. His bones ached and his mind was reeling from the hysteria of the day. With a heavy sigh, the rugged lone-wolf swept his legs up onto the couch, spreading himself out and crossing his ankles up on top of the furthest arm-rest. Daryl's head rested back upon one of the throw-pillows, draping one arm over his tired eyes. As if made of jello, the archer relaxed and allowed every limb to go slack, releasing all the tension within himself. The silence was filled with the pop and hiss of the wood within the fireplace, the aroma of wood-smoke coiling to his nose.

His mouth still burned and all he could think about was how supple her rosy lips had been… it had been like his first sip of a sugary sweet drink- something he knew he would drink too much of and get sick to his stomach, puking up his guts 'till it hurt. Similar to when Merle had gotten him to drink some of that apple-pie moonshine, and how he had said two distinct words that now shown within his memories. Daryl had taken the shot like a champ, feeling it scream down his throat like tires on a hot dry Georgia road, hitting his gut like a train. After feeling the heat scorch his insides and his face set ablaze, he had grinned wickedly and looked up at his brother with a devilish gleam in his eye. "Oooh, that's dangerous!"

And holy hell, was it ever dangerous.

He had fucked up- _he had fucked up- **he had fucked up**_! Daryl let out an elongated groan and stared up into the darkness of the ceiling above.

* * *

Jasmine's heart was skittering up in her throat when she woke up to Maggie's wail from downstairs. The young woman practically scrambled from where she had been resting in her bed, rushing out her bedroom door wearing only her boy-short undergarments and an over-sized football jersey. Her feet hit the hardwood and the brunette flower moved so quickly down the steps that she could have sworn she was flying rather than running. Before she knew it, she was down the stairs and standing in the middle of the kitchen, completely at a loss as to what had happened. Maggie was curled into her husband, sobbing into his chest, whilst Rick was standing there with a sheet of paper in his hands. On the kitchen table was Carl's stetson, neatly placed and untouched. The basement door opened and Michonne appeared, crossing over to her companion with great tears in her eyes. "He's gone…" she whimpered, immediately captured by Rick as he wrapped his arms around her. Jasmine felt realization wash over her in great tidal waves.

"W-Who's gone…?" But she already knew. She already understood. Rick's eyes fell upon her and he went to open his mouth, but then he fell apart, shaking his head.

"Carl… Carl and Fallon. They left during the night," replied Carol, her voice rasping in her throat. It was obvious that the older woman was trying to hold back her own emotions. She was holding together fairly well. To hear this in words, it was gratifying. Fallon and Carl? Together? Why would they have wanted to leave here?

Rick piped up. "Daryl didn' even hear 'em go out the front door." Anger overwhelmed Jasmine. Daryl, of all people, had been completely unaware?

"Shouldn't we be going out and looking?" she demanded.

"Daryl is already out there… he went as soon as Maggie woke him up," replied Carol, her voice soft. She then turned to look among the group. "There's nothing to worry about… we'll figure out where they're heading, and we'll find them. We just need to remain calm… they might come back."

"They're still _kids_.. Why would they leave like this?" Sasha inquired, completely baffled. She had just given a voice to the group's thoughts. "They even told us not to follow them, so why-"

The front door flew open and Daryl Dixon stepped inside. His coat and gang-style vest were slick from the rain that fell in sheets outside, his hair plastered to his head. The archer's eyes were wide and alert, obviously high-strung from the sudden drama and panic of the moment. Everyone looked to him, putting him on the spot and waiting for him to speak. "The rain's ruinin' the tracks 'round front," he explained, then he swallowed hastily, trying to catch his breath. "What's worse? Th' _truck's_ gone…"

The entire group gawked at the archer in dismay, all hope dying from their eyes. As Daryl noticed this, his eyes fell and he seemed to deflate, all tension leaving his shoulders as they gradually slumped. The archer's head slowly fell until it was bowed and his eyes squeezed shut as he held back his own tears. Jasmine ached to cross the foyer in order to comfort him. She would brush the hair from his face and hold him, reassuring him that he had done his best, or that it was simply going to be okay. Instead of doing so, though, her eyes flashed in frustration and she felt a sob throb tighten in her throat, abruptly closing her airway. Daryl's head shot up as soon as he heard the young woman stir, his glossy gaze following her as she turned on her heels and tentatively walked to the stairs. Jasmine's head shook in thought, her bare feet once again returning to their path from earlier, ascending the wooden case to the hall.

She quickly made it to her bedroom and allowed the door to close behind her, her delicate hand remaining upon her mouth. As soon as the door clicked behind her, Jasmine took a few more steps, and then let out a sob. Her entire world crashed down around her. This was her fault. Even as she looked out at such a peaceful morning, the dawn's heavy sunshine sparkling and turning the rain to liquid silver, she couldn't help but imagine the horror that Carl could possibly be going through. Jasmine wept for what felt like hours, until she was unable to even breathe. Perhaps if she had kept a better eye on the boy, even after what his father had put her through… perhaps if she had been more accepting of Fallon, perhaps if she had-

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door. She held her breath, nervous that Carol might see her at her worst once more. The latch clicked and the egress creaked on its hinges. Jasmine's head rose from where it rested against the window pane as the floorboards stirred.

"Jas…" Daryl's defeated tone hit the air in place of Carol's gentle coo. The anger returned and she cringed, her nose wrinkling and her teeth grating. "Jas, I-"

"You could have found them.." Her voice sounded alien, hoarse from sobbing. Jasmine hugged herself, her fingers digging into her lean biceps. "Why didn't you try?"

"I did, it jus'- the tracks-" he stammered, his vocals broken in his throat.

"You… you couldn't have checked disturbances in the leaves?"

"It ain't that easy-"

"The tire tracks?"

"The rain-"

" _Fuck the rain_!" she erupted, turning to him. Daryl stood in her bedroom for the first time in a long time, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. It was obvious that he was at a loss for words. He was trying to be angry, it was also very prominent, but she was pushing all the right buttons and he had no clap-back to fall back on. "You could have tracked the tire tracks- hell, you could have turned around and- and-"

"I ain't a blue tick, it don't work that way!" the archer retaliated, finally speaking up.

"Oh _please_ , Daryl! You always act like you have your ass in gear and that you know what you're doing, but now all you do is just tuck your fucking tail between your legs and run to hide!" she hissed. Her voice began to rise in volume, yet nonetheless trembled as she tried to keep herself composed. "Don't tell me you couldn't have somehow figured out at least what direction they were heading in! You could have easily done that, but instead you let your emotions get in your head!" She took a step towards him, her throat becoming tight once more as images of Daryl possibly catching Carl filled her mind, causing her to become even more angry, to a point where she was seething venom. "You could've gotten on your bike and followed the tire tracks, but instead you came back here like the fucking coward you are!" She looked up at him with burning shamrock eyes, then removed her gaze, gesturing with her free hand, the other clutching her opposing limb.

"What's more? You're supposed to be Rick's _brother_.. You should have given him a wake-up call, you should have snapped him out of it!" Jasmine continued, the words falling from her mouth like a quavering waterfall. "He needed you, so why haven't you gotten him to send out a search party yet? _Hell_! Why haven't _you_ sent out a search party yet?"

"They might come back…" Daryl pointed out softly, his voice crackling in his throat.

"We _shouldn't_ be _waiting_!" Jasmine shouted, gaze latching onto him once more. The young woman then trailed off, trying to catch her breath. She partially expected him to say something to her in return, but instead he just stood there, staring at her with such a wounded expression.

The silence was heavy upon her shoulders. Her breath stirred within her chest and she opened her mouth. "Perhaps if I hadn't have gotten in between you two…" Jasmine croaked. Daryl stiffened and she took a step back, her eyes remaining averted. "Maybe if I hadn't accepted Rick's advances… maybe if I hadn't- then you two wouldn't be-"

" _Don't_ …" Daryl scowled, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose.

"You know it's true! You two were-"

"Jasmine, don't…"

Despite his pleas, Jasmine proceeded to speak so negatively. She couldn't help that her own resentment was growing in her belly. The tears were flowing heavily now, her entire body wracked with sobs. "If you hadn't have kissed me last night, then you would have been awake when they had left.."

The archer suddenly cleared the distance between the two in a single step, and in one sweeping movement, he captured her wrist in his grip. It was tight enough to startle her, causing her to let out a gasp. " _Let me go_!" she bleated.

"Listen-" Dixon began.

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Listen, girl! I-"

Jasmine's fists collided with his chest, yet still he remained unmoved. "You stupid dumbass hick- you yellow-bellied son of a-"

Daryl swiftly had pulled her closer, his breath warm as it danced across her cheeks. "I wouldn't change any of it, _y'hear me_?!" he barked, having finally losing his temper. The air that scraped its way in through her choked throat stilled and her movements weakened, her balled fists coming to a stop and her head bowing into his chest. A few whimpers escaped her.

"You're lying.."

"I ain't…" he countered, his voice low and hushed. The archer hadn't spoken in such a calm manner in what felt close to an eternity. He was speaking so softly to her, yet she still felt anger twisting within her heart, causing her own frustration to creep its way back up her spine. Jasmine finally wrenched herself away from the archer.

"This is all your fault," she growled, her voice low. "You could have done more."

Daryl Dixon stilled, his brows rising and his expression softening. She had struck not just one nerve, but a bundle, and he now stared at her like he would a monster. Jasmine had cut him open and now he was bleeding out for all the world to see. Once again, he nodded and bowed his head. Daryl then turned away from her, his trademark fallen angel wings flashing in the golden morning wash. That was when it struck her, what she had just admitted to him, what she had just said to the archer. She felt awful.

Jasmine had always known that the archer tended to take the blame upon himself, even when it wasn't his fault. It was an impulse he couldn't control, which frightened her, for blame could take a heavy toll on one's mental health. He wasn't the most stable of people, yes, but he always had someone to lean on. The family that had manifested out of those who had survived together, molding each of them into who they were today- they were his sanctuary. Jasmine had been one of those, and now, she had just turned into one of those dancing devils within his head. Those voices who told him that it was always his fault, somehow.

* * *

 _Jasmine and the archer were settled up in the loft, watching the forest line with attentive eyes. The young woman held a thermos of coffee in her hands, the rifle she bore resting across her jean-clad legs. " **Its fuckin' freezin' out** ," Daryl mumbled from beneath the large poncho he was buried in, trying to keep himself warm. Despite the fact that they were both wearing at least three layers, it was bitter and brisk as ever. The winter was mean this year, especially so far off in the woods with barely any sunshine at times. The lodge had its own heating system, but it had long since died after the loss of electricity._

 _" **You're going to be up here for another three hours until Glenn comes up, so just try and avoid complaining now… if you think this is cold, then you really haven't been to Canada** ," she responded, chortling softly._

 _" **I've never been outta Georgia, so can't say that I have** …" Daryl mumbled, shooting her a glance._

 _The treeline stirred and she caught sight of a roamer breaking through the bare brush. It was a young boy in a baseball cap, his tee torn and jeans bloodied. The young child's intestines dragged at the ground, from what she could see, and his tongue lolled from his mouth, his jaw absent. " **Daryl** …" she warned softly._

 _" **I see 'im** …" The archer adjusted his Valmet M88 and peered through the scope, his sight training on him. Jasmine, feeling an overwhelming sense of emotion, turned her head away. It was strange, seeing as usually she wasn't as sensitive to this type of situation. Tears burned her beautiful emerald gaze and she took a trembling breath inward. The muffled explosion of the M88 caused her to flinch, even when she had prepared herself, and she could almost feel the remnants of the little boy hit the ground. " **Better mark that down** …"_

 _Jasmine swallowed heavily and nodded, sniffling as she reached for the notepad at her feet. As she was scratching down the small report, she suddenly felt Daryl's eyes upon her, and became self-conscious. " **You alright**?" he asked, causing her attention to move from what she was writing. Jasmine paused for a moment, then her eyes drifted from him and she nodded, shifting beneath her blanket. " **You sure**?"_

 _With the pen shaking in her hand, she finished up the report and closed the book. Jasmine then tilted herself to look out at the moon-lit white marshmallow world. Her lips remained glued shut as she nestled underneath the blanket, covering her shoulders and arms. There was a pause. Daryl then shifted and stood, picking up his bow and swinging it up over his head and shoulder. " **C'mon… watch my back** ," he murmured. Confused at first, Jasmine looked up at him with a perplexed look. He then reached over and moved the blanket off of her. " **C'mon**." Hesitant at first, she glanced out over her shoulder. Jasmine knew that if they left their post, Rick would have a canary, but instead she decided to let her curiosity get the better of her. The young woman finally nodded and then took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. She didn't quite understand, but she would find out eventually._

 _The two traipsed down the stairs as quietly as possible and down to the hall, carefully stepping so that they could make it to the staircase at the end of the isle that lead to the bedrooms. They then took to the steps and slipped down onto the third floor, heading straight for the door. Soon they were outside and crossing silently through the snow. The crunching underfoot was so satisfying, yet troubling as Jasmine realized that the fresh surface of the alabaster powder would now be damaged. " **Ain't no reason why this kid shouldn' have a proper burial** ," Daryl rumbled, continuing to lead the way. No wonder he had grabbed the shovel on the way out._

 _The cold nipped through Jasmine's jeans and nylons beneath, her legs chilly from the breeze that cut into the two. Daryl's cheeks were pinched and rosy, and his hair was ruffling in the breeze. He would need a trim soon, if he would let her._

 _The duo eventually made it to the treeline, the smell of the child's decomposing body filling Jasmine's nose. It didn't take them long. Daryl lifted the young boy and they quietly plodded deeper into the woods. Beneath the thick Georgian pines, they buried the child. Jasmine and he stood there for a while longer, silently look upon the mouth of disturbed dirt. The trees creaked and complained as a breeze swept through the woods. All was silent. The young woman eventually knelt and rest a hand upon the grave. " **I'm sorry** ," was all she managed to say. Tears flooded her eyes and she allowed her head to fall._

 _Jasmine rose, only to find that she was suddenly alone. Her heart leaped and she felt her entire body tense. Her hands and nails were crusted with blood, her arms cradling her own child, screaming into the night without any control. Jasmine's clothes were gone and she was bare, standing far from the lodge. Deep in the dark woods that reached toward her spine with clawing hands, she could feel the dead creeping toward her, their gurgles and growls growing louder until they filled her ears, drowning out the wind. There was the sound of a gunfire-_

Jasmine jolted awake and bolted upright like a rake. It was nearly dusk, and she was wondering what the commotion was. More gunshots exploded overhead and she shot up out of her tangled sheets. They were real. They were so fucking real, and Jasmin's heart was now in her throat, beating out of control. This time, Jasmine was sure to throw on her jeans and a clean shirt, not thinking to grab her ronin from the side closet. " _Miss Jasmine_!" Jordan wailed from down the hall, her voice rising above the shots. The young girl was what drew her out of her bedroom. The young redhead emerged from the dark hall, rushing to Jasmine in a panic. Tears bubbled at her red lashes, her freckled face flushed from crying. Jasmine quickly knelt and placed her hands on either side of her face. " _Shhh_ …" she hushed. "Its okay, alright? We have it covered…" There was a bellow from downstairs, most likely from Rick. Something about the sofa-

" _Jasmine_ , what's gonna happen?" whimpered Jordan. "Reese is scared…"

"Hey, _hey_ , it's going to be alright. I _promise_ … I need you to go get Judith like we practiced. Go into the closet at the end of the hall and stay there until someone comes to get you," explained Jasmine. The two flinched as there was a burst of artillery once again. "Don't answer it if they sound unfamiliar, okay? You can do this Jordan, you've gotta protect what's ours." Jordan nodded and reached up, and Jasmine placed a kiss on top of her forehead. " _Thatagirl_!" praised the matron. The two parted ways, Jordan heading to grab Judith from her crib, who was already baying in fear. The sound of the toddler's whimpers and wails faded as she soared down the steps, only to come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. The sofa was tipped over and Maggie and Carol were facing the side door, Michonne trapped at the edge of the archway, firing bullets on the occasion outside. Abraham and Sasha must have been upstairs, defending the front of the house as best they could.

There was only one explanation. **_Fallon_**.

The front door suddenly slammed shut, revealing that Glenn and Rick were finally inside, both crouched beneath the shattered glass window. The regal leader's attention fell upon her and he suddenly barked, his nose wrinkled in anger. "Jasmine!" The young girl raced for the wall as suddenly bullets flew into the side of the house, shaking the entire building. Shouts were bleeding through the walls and windows. Panic flooded through her, and even despite the entire argument, Jasmine desperately searched for any sign of Daryl Dixon.

"What's going on?!" Jasmine demanded, covering her head as there was the sudden detonation of a grenade thrown.

Michonne was quick to answer her from across the room. Her gun still smoked, her back pressed to the wall just as she was. "It's those assholes from Hatchback Grove! Ronnie took Emma hostage after she refused to go with him… they left together just as they started shooting the front of the lodge."

"They must want to weaken us so that they can bring us out, slaughter us-"

"How th' fuck do they expect us to come out if they keep firin' at _our only two exits_?!" growled Rick, cutting Jasmine off. The young woman glanced around.

"Where's Daryl? Upstairs?"

"We have no idea- after you two had your spat, he left without a word," Carol recounted, glancing over between everyone. There was another burst of gunfire, and then, a crash at the front door, as if someone were trying to use a battering ram to get inside. The air within her throat stilled and the entire group froze, tension rising in the air as the moments drew on and on. " _Fuck_!" Glenn cussed. The two men rose and held the door shut, even as it shook under the heavy collisions.

Jasmine ducked her head as a bullet or two broke through one of the panes of glass, exposing the final sheet that faced inside the lodge. The sheets let in dim light, the cold beginning to seep in. She prepared herself, quickly bolted to her feet and finally came to help Glenn and Rick keep the door shut. " _Jas_ -" Rick began to protest. There was the sound of splitting grain, and suddenly the hinge was beginning to bend.

"I'm part of this group, I can keep up with all of you. Now _shut_ up, and let me-" Jasmine slammed herself up against the door as the purser attempted to break in once again. "- _fuckin' help_!" Rick seemed to hesitate next to her, even as they pressed to the door.

"We can't let you get hurt-"

The leader was about to bicker, only to be cut off by Maggie, who retaliated in her stead. "Oh, just let her help, _goddamnit_!"

Everyone seemed to be a bit surprised by this, but they had no time to argue. The door suddenly cracked again, which startled everybody back to reality. "The door isn't gonna hold!" yelled Michonne, shooting the trio at the egress a side-glance after a few shots of her gun. Her gun then sputtered and clicked. "I'm almost out of ammo!" Jasmine's head was teetering like a top, her entire body in a cold sweat and her gut twisting. The door jolted on its hinges and suddenly she stumbled forward, caught off guard by the men booting the egress in. The brunette scrambled to her feet, the moment seeming to slow as suddenly the latch gave way, as did one of the hinges, the door jarring open a few centimeters. "Oh Christ!" Glenn shrilled. The two men tried to push, a glimpse of the person behind suddenly causing Jasmine a moment of panic. She raced to grab the nob and force it shut, when Rick and Glenn suddenly leaped from the surface of the egress and drew their guns. "Get ready!" roared the leader. Jasmine stumbled back a few steps, staggering from the sight before her.

All sound around her became muffled and her ears began to ring, her eyes glued to the towering figure that stepped in through the door. Patches of yellowed and leathery skin from all human races were stitched together in a mask, gloves and two-piece suit covered the man's body, two slits placed within the facial area for charcoal-smeared eyes. It all made sense, why she had seen the skinwalker that day that Daryl and she had merely escaped with their lives. A shutter rushed through her and suddenly, before she could control her own reaction, her voice rose in a shrill cry and she began to panic. Jasmine watched as Rick fired, the entire situation returning to its natural speed, the bullets cutting into the man's ribs. There was a muffled thunder that tore from inside the mask and he gripped at his wound, which followed Glenn tackling him. A brawl began, Maggie crying out for her loved one as suddenly he was grasped by the throat. The entire while, Jasmine was struggling to keep her breathing under control, tears rushing from her eyes like a briny waterfall. The regal leader swept in as quick as he could, the butt of his gun coming down on the towering skinwalker's wrist in order to get him to let the young man go. His elbow then swung up and collided with the side of the skinwalker's face.

It seemed as though the skinwalker was down for the count, when suddenly Rick was socked in the gut, sending him to the floor not far from Glenn. Grimes was given a kick to the rib-cage, jolting her out of the frozen state of fear. "Rick-" Jasmine turned to face the skinwalker, who was now staring right at her. Anger grew molten within her chest, followed by fear, and she rushed to grab the coal poker. Before she could capture the handle in her grasp, her arm was snatched by the skinwalker. She was dragged backward; once again, after she felt as though that would be the end of this monster's presence in her life, she was pulled up against his rock-solid body and hoisted up off the ground by her belly. As Jasmine was swung around, her eyes fell upon Rick, who lunged toward her. "Rick!" she shrieked, their fingers just narrowly missing one another's. In a last ditch effort, Jasmine twisted and bit down on the skinwalker's bicep, then reeled her legs up, kicking herself away. She felt her knees collide with the floor, and then shot up, crawling quickly across the floor with little finesse.

"Block the door-"

"Jasmine, get up!"

Jasmine spiraled around and scooted back on her backside, the skinwalker having recovered by now and grabbing for her ankles. She felt his fingers grace her leg, then watched him stand from where he was in the doorway, which she matched in her own time. By time she was on trembling legs, she was feeling as if she were going to fall over, all strength leaving her limbs. She was falling apart at the seams, her nose running and her face damp with everlasting tears. "Leave me alone!" she screamed. The skinwalker stepped toward her and reached-

Green feathers flashed in the dimming dusk, an arrow slicing into the creature's temple so quickly that it ended up pinning the man to the side of the archway. The skinwalker's entire body went limp and soon he was just hanging there, suspended only by the bow in his skull. Blood was prominent from the wound, oozing out between the parted, dried flesh. Jasmine's knees gave out finally, and just before she felt her knees collide with the hardwood, a strong arm wound around her swollen waist and held her up. Sobs wracked through her as suddenly the gunfire began to dwindle. Daryl Dixon had gallantly soared through the side-door ordering the girls to shut the door and shut the drapes as quick as they could… and finally fired an arrow into the monster before them all. He gently cooed and comforted Jasmine, holding her up against his body; his torso was firm and yet familiar, comforting her in a moment of such fear. The tightened anxiety within her chest unwound and suddenly all drained from her body as she stared at what lay before her. The egress hung there on its hinges, creaking in the gusts of wind. Glenn and Rick slowly approached the body in the archway with apprehension, when finally the regal leader abruptly strode forward and tore the mask from the man's face. Beneath the woven patchwork of leathery hide was someone she had never wished to see. Hazel eyes stared lifelessly out at the world, blood leaking down the stranger's temple and sprayed across his left ocular so grotesquely. "Oh god- no, **no** \- _B-Blake- no, god_ -" wailed Jasmine. The archer followed her as she sank to the ground completely, at a loss for words as she blubbered hysterically. She attempted to move from his arms, but then fell back into place, too weak.

Rick stood there, staring as the gratifying moment passed second by second, before he finally turned to Glenn. They stood there, speechless for a moment, until suddenly the call for retreat brought relief among the group. "Is everyone okay?!" called Carol, rising from behind the makeshift bunker they had created out of some of the furniture. Stuffing was scattered all across the room, bullet shells gleaming and glinting in the dying light that filtered in from the candles lit upstairs-

The group could not see what she saw. All sound died once more and she felt her face pale completely, her eyes burning into the person within her vision. Barking out an order and readying to turn, was a tall, lanky man with long, greasy hair and an unkempt beard.

Someone she had wish to never see ever again, in her entire life on this goddamn earth.

 **Matthias**.

Rage blinded her and she suddenly wrenched herself out of Daryl's arms with a shrill battle cry. Tearing the arrow from Blake's skull with little remorse, she charged out into the grass barefoot. "Jasmine!" shouted Glenn, but she didn't hear him. She leaped off the porch in one bound and cleared the distance between the two. When Matthias suddenly turned, he looked at her with wide eyes, knowing for a split second that he was vulnerable. " _ **You did this to me, you slimy pig**_!" He brought his gun up and as Jasmine came flying down upon him, the barrel collided with her torso in an attempt to block her from assaulting him further. In turn, the arrow came flying down and with a sickening pop, submerged itself into his eye. They landed upon the ground with a wet slap, the snow and mud breaking Matthias's fall as Jasmine brought her knee down and pinned him by the chest. Garbled cries and screams escaped Matthias as the young matron brought the arrow up into the air once more, a string of blood following in its path. She stabbed and mauled, the tip of the bolt sinking deep into his cheeks, broke teeth, and scrambled his nose. Blood sprayed across her face and crusted her nails, smearing up her forearms. The body had long since stilled before suddenly Rick's arms enveloped her and she was torn away from the body, sobbing and kicking, and screaming. "No, no, _no_! Let me go, _he did this to me_! He fucking did this to me!"

Daryl simultaneously dragged the body away and out of sight, trying to diffuse the situation. She was brought to the porch and handed off to Carol, who brought her inside and up to the bathroom while the rest of the group cleaned up. Her entire body shook… yet she felt nothing.

No fear, no anger, no sadness.

Nothing.

* * *

Daryl, after washing the blood from his hands and assisting the group in barricading the windows and doors, crept upstairs. He didn't know quite yet what he was going to say to Jasmine after their argument, nor after she had gone ballistic on a total stranger. Who was the archer to judge, though? It brought him back three years prior, when he had found Merle feasting on the innards of a fallen Woodburian. The look in his brother's eyes was harrowing, those milky depths deep enough to drown in, for there was no thought or emotion behind that could keep him afloat.

When he was finished his tasks, he was left peering around as the others were cleaning up. Abraham and Rick had headed upstairs to the loft and the radios had been set out, just as they would have been every morning… back when they thought the world would catch up to them as quick as the virus had spread. This dead world never waited for anybody, no how. The archer had only one goal now, and that was to figure out where the woman in question had been taken. Daryl hated to admit it sometimes, but yeah… he was worried about Jasmine. So what did he do? He approached the only person he knew would know her whereabouts. Hopefully.

Daryl moved toward Maggie Rhee, whom was sweeping the floor. The taller girl stood with her back to him, her slim form covered in a long tasseled blanket that they had kept on the back of the couch. He wasn't exactly sure hot to get her attention, so he awkwardly stuffed a hand in his pocket and glanced off toward the kitchen for a moment, peering at Glenn and Michonne as they nursed bruises and cuts from the glass. " _Daryl_?" she murmured. "Are you okay?" Her soft southern voice was a gentle hug from a loved one. The archer turned his head to look at her, his brows risen and a look of question upon his face for a moment. He then nodded and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, jus'-"

A tender smile laced her supple lips and her dimples became prominent. She was beautiful, in a girlish sort of way. Maggie answered his question even before he asked. "Jasmine's upstairs… Carol took her to the bathroom t' clean her up.." It must have been amusing to see him so concerned over some girl. He couldn't help but feel his ears burn in shame.

"Thanks," he replied gently, taking to the loft. The staircase was longer than Daryl remembered, his legs feeling as though he were moving through molasses. Finally, his feet found carpet and he had reached his destination. The hall was a shorter trip, thankfully. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, light streaming out into the dimly lit aisle. Carol's soft voice and the sound of sloshing water drifted to his ears. Daryl's eyes fell to the soft off-white carpet, easily picking out the specks of blood spattered across the surface. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he allowed his head to bow. What if she were hurt? The archer's pace slowed and eventually he paused at the entrance. Much like a dog unsure of whether it was allowed to enter, he stepped into the open and peer inside with caution. The lip of the tub was smeared with crimson, Jasmine's clothes in a muddled heap not far from where Carol rested. The older woman was perched on a footstool, her sleeves rolled up and her hands busy as she rubbed the stains from Jasmine's extended arm.

The older woman was thankfully in the way, yet he still kept his eyes averted, not wanting to take any chances as he stood there, his neck began to burn in shame. Perhaps this was all his doing… The archer hovered where he stood, staying silent as he listened to Carol calm the hiccuping girl. How was he supposed to handle this situation? What was he supposed to say? His hand adjusted from where it gripped the strap of his crossbow. "It's going to be alright… we're going to clean you up, okay?" Carol hummed. "Get you some fresh clothes.." The sound of pit-pattering water hit the air as the cloth was lifted from the swirling scarlet water. Mixed in with the coiling wall of moisture was the familiar tang of blood. Daryl stepped from the entrance and turned on his heels, heading back down toward the staircase. He would speak with her later-

"He…" Jasmine's voice croaked. The sound was so familiar that it stood out above the sound of the creaking pipes and running water. The archer stopped in his tracks. At first, Daryl wasn't sure if he had heard the next few words correctly. It didn't make sense, yet as soon as he heard them, they gushed with truth. " _He raped me_." The world had been yanked out from beneath his feet. Daryl staggered, catching himself on the wall. The sloshing of the drenched cloth ceased. "Jasmine, honey… I'm… I…"

"This is his baby. Not _Rick's_ … and certainly not _Daryl's_ ," rasped the gore-smeared woman. She sounded so hollow. "So you all can stop looking at me like I'm just _some_ _whore_."


End file.
